It's Not Me, It's You P&P
by ModernDayFlannery
Summary: Will Darcy is captivated by Lizzie Bennet's fine eyes...but then she opens her mouth. Could you not really? (Reviving this work from 2012). MODERN P&P
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Many, many moons ago I started a story entitled "It's Not Me It's You Modern P&amp;P." And then, life happened, which it always so conveniently does. As I'm on sabbatical from grad school currently I am slowly losing my mind with free time and dug up the old story that was never finished. So, what you have here is an edited version to a story started nearly four years ago with anywhere from minor editing to a complete transformation. Hopefully I finish it this go 'round. Enjoy.**

* * *

Since birth and probably before, I have always caved whenever my amazingly wonderful twin sister batted her big blue eyes. It's just that look. She doesn't even have to say anything and I blindly give into her demands. How do you think she was born five minutes before me? Clearly she's been working on this technique since conception. Plus, there was the time I ran out in front of a UPS truck to rescue the the damn cat, that proves I always give into her. The cat was clearly suicidal and darted out the door in hopes of instantaneously ending its life by a large moving vehicle. _("Jane, I seriously could've died back there." "But, Lizzie, the cat - what would we do without Fluffy? And, you didn't die.")_

Ok, yeah, I didn't die, but for real. I would do anything for my sister because she's Jane - beautiful, sweet, kindhearted, Jane.

But when she asked if I would go with her to see some stupid musical, I was adamant that I would not even step foot in the theatre.

"No, Jane," I urged, "I hate musicals. Remember my glory days in _Pinocchio_? They kicked me out because I was destroying the 'splendor' - or some bull shit - by making faces in the background. I'm scarred for life. I can't get those childhood memories back."

"Lizzie, you attacked Pinocchio," Jane reminded, scrubbing a cookie sheet as I peered into the refrigerator, pondering what we would eat for dinner.

"He stole my cookie during snack time." I said with a shrug. "During rehearsal seemed like the perfect time to punch his lights out." I made a face as I saw a container of expired Greek yogurt sitting in the corner. I tossed it into the trash can while mentally making a list of things to purchase on our next shopping trip. Food in general probably.

"Oh, the glorious days of third grade." She handed me the cookie sheet and a towel. "You dirtied it, now dry it off."

"Fine, fine, fine," I grumbled and yanked it out of her hands, before sulking against the counter.

"So, will you go?" Jane asked softly, looking at the floor with a forlorn glance.

"Nooooooo! I hate musicals, remember? I just emphasized the fact. Plus, the musical is bound to have children running through the aisles popping up in your face."

"I won the tickets, though. They were free."

Of course, I'm the one to blame (sort of) because she kept complaining about how she should call in to the radio and answer the question to win. And because I love my sister dearly, I encouraged her.

"Oh, Jane, just call. You know the answer."

"But what if I sound stupid on air?"

"People will be laughing at your expense for years to come. You'll never be able to show your face in a public place again. Forget life. Give up."

"Aren't you the one always saying that we should take advantage of freebies?" Jane asked.

"Well, yeah. I'm a first year doctoral student with student loans growing out of my ears. I need free stuff to stay afloat." I point my finger at her. "That does not mean we need to take advantage of a free play."

"Remember, we shared a womb." Jane's eyes are bulging with excitement as she thinks she has roped me in.

"The _children_, Jane! And why do you have to use that as blackmail? _We shared a womb_," I mocked her favorite line and she pinched my nose fondly. I had to love her.

First off, Jane is a marine biologist. She adores animals of any kind. Because of that and the fact that she is such a genuine human being, she has this "skipping through flowers, singing happy songs" vibe. Where that whole pomp and circumstance thing is usually disconcerting for me, Jane plays it off so well. She's just so darn cute that her upbeat personality is almost catching.

Jane is the most beautiful of us five sisters, and not one of us can be jealous of her beauty because she's a _good_ person too. She doesn't even realize how beautiful she is, which makes it so much harder for anyone to hate her. As a blonde haired, blue eyed fairy, she is almost as naively fragile as she is perfectly beautiful inside and out. I've always felt the need to protect her. In the same instance, she has a terribly overbearing motherly instinct where when you come from a bad day, you want to crawl onto her lap, tell her everything, and let her stroke your hair, or rub your back. Somehow we balance out each other with our varying personalities.

"Did I mention the crappy quality?" I spouted.

"Crappy quality?" Jane repeated, bewildered.

"Cinderella looks like a man. Have you seen the billboards around town? It's disturbing. A big, hairy man in a princess dress. I don't want to be there when young viewers have their hopes shattered by a gorilla on stage in a ballgown."

Jane looked at me with big doe eyes torn between perplexity and amusement. "Lizzie, _come_ on!"

"No! I refuse." I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest like a petulant child. "I will not go!"

"Lizzie, please." Now the whining begins. She batted her ocean eyes at me.

I stomped my feet for dramatics and sighed loudly, annoyed. "Fine! But if you won an aisle seat, it's all yours!"

Jane squealed, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Air!" I managed and she let me go, smoothing her shirt. "Love you, twin!"

Jane kissed my forehead and padded down the hall.

_Manipulator, she preys on the weak._


	2. Grumpy Old Men

"Aisle seat is all yours, Janey." I push her aside and plop down into my seat. She sticks out her tongue and then gently arranges her dress before gracefully taking a seat. Jane was the child who played dress up and tea party; me, I was the one hanging upside down in a tree like an orangutan while Mom looked on, wondering where she'd gone wrong.

"Oh, my poor nerves, Lizzie's hanging from the tree again, she'll never catch a husband that way." It went something like that from Fran Bennet: mother of five, wife to Tom Bennet: mentally absent father. After the first five years of life, I think I started ignoring what Mom said, because it was usually in regards to how I drove her to the breaking point - which I tend to do. Even though Dad's one of those fathers who lurks in his study, trying to ignore his family, he always let me come in and crash his party with the book _du jour_ when Mom's annoying qualities really began to grate on my nerves.

Jane's cheering brought me back to reality. "Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Joy," I say with a frown. After a long day of teaching freshman composition classes, I want nothing but sleep. "Wait! I should've sat on the aisle seat and tripped the prancing children."

Jane rolls her eyes. "I'll be sure to push you out in the aisle and have the kids trample you."

Mocking an appalled state, I clutch my heart. "Jane, this wickedness is very unbecoming on you."

She ruffles my hair and pulls out the program. I glance around the theatre and watch people trying to find their seats. I pick out a redheaded man smirking at a brooding man with black curls styled into a well-groomed mane and crystal blue eyes. They were in suits and seemed to be bickering to each other. Oh, an unhappy gay couple. Red pulls out his tickets and scans the seats around him, before pointing in our direction and dragging Grumpers McGee. Great. Red is practically leaping down the aisle, while Grumpers McGee is lagging behind with a ticked off expression etched into his features.

They stop a few feet back, but because I'm a polite individual dedicated to understanding mankind, I eavesdrop nonchalantly.

"Clearly, they're stupid, those are our seats," Grumpers McGee spat out. I could sense that his features had morphed back into a scowl. Not that I go for guys that swing that way, but if his face wasn't sagging with distaste, he could've been attractive.

"Maybe they misread their tickets," Red reassures. "They seem reasonable. I'll show them our tickets and explain. The blonde seems understanding and the brunette has -"

"She seems like a _complete_ airhead and when's the last time she brushed her hair? Maybe she's homeless, unemployed -_ something_."

Ok, I have long, thick, wavy hair. It's not my fault, I blame genetics.

Jane hears the rude comment from behind and glances at me - probably praying that a) they weren't talking about me b) if they are, I will clamp down on my tongue. Disregarding Jane, I spin around in my seat and glare at Grumpers McGee.

"Do you have a problem with homeless people, Grumpers, _do you?_"

He blanches and Red peers at him quickly, before smiling apologetically. "I'm so sorry." He glares at Grumpers and says something I can't hear.

Grumpers shakes his head and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, punching his thumbs across the screen down in fury. The poor phone. Well, the poor person he's texting also. Red rolls his eyes and indicates to his tickets. "Our tickets say E13 and E14 and you are in our seats," Red explains politely, completely unaffected by his friend's attitude problem.

Jane's eyes widen. "Oh, I'm such a ditz!"

At this I see Grumpers roll his eyes and give a grunt of agreement. I throw him a menacing glare and he sobers at my expression.

Fumbling for the tickets, Jane pulls them out of her purse and then her brow furrows. "Wait - our tickets say E13 and E14, also."

"Are you kidding me?" Grumpers McGee nearly shouts. "I told you winning those tickets was a scam!"

"Whoa, calm down there, Grumpers," I state with a smirk. I can tell her is seething by the way he clenches his fists and his face turns an ugly shade of purple.

"Stop calling me that!" He spits out and I cock my brow at him.

"I might call you Barney. Minus the green dots, your face is about that color." I flash him a satirical smile, while inwardly wanting to karate chop him in two.

"You won tickets, also?" Jane gushes, oblivious to me. "I was dying to come, so I called in during the contest."

"Me too!" Red says emphatically.

Jane giggles and casts her eyes downward. My mouth drops open and Grumpers McGee shoves Red. "Charlie!"

"Clearly this is a sign for us to go home, Jane. Don't fight our destiny - Cinderella's not in the cards for us." I start to stand, but Jane pushes me back down. I half expect her to rip out some rope and tie me to the seat. "I want to stay, Lizzie."

The theatre is starting to really become crowded, so I sigh, trying to not lose my cool. "Let's find an usher and explain the situation."

"Finally you say something intelligent," Grumpers complains.

Standing, I size him up and poke his chest. "Um, first off, where I haven't brushed my hair or had access to a bath because I'm homeless, all of that grease and scum has been chomping on my brain cells. Plus, since I'm unemployed, I clearly haven't used any of my smarts lately, because I've been too busy dumpster diving and working the corner to feed the kids. So, it's not my fault I'm unintelligent. It's people like you, Suits, that steal jobs from the underprivileged lower class."

Red - or Charlie - as Grumpers calls him, chuckles and punches Grumpers arm. "Come on, Darce, lighten up."

Charlie then chases down an usher and begins explaining the situation. Praying that they will escort us out, they willingly give us the worst possible seats instead. Front row and center. With fifteen minutes to spare, Charlie introduces himself as I find myself sitting next to Grumpers. How it happened, I'm not sure.

"Sorry things got crazy back there. I'm Charlie Bingley and that lovely fellow is Will Darcy. Grumpers actually does suit him though," Charlie supplies, leaning across Jane to hand out greetings.

"Oh really? I pegged him right on the spot?" I glance at him as he is removing his tie. "I was hoping to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I couldn't get past his moody exterior. Or the fact that he insulted my intelligence. I'm a great judge of character apparently. Who would've thought?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Will complains with a huff.

"Is it that time of the month? Do you need Midol?" He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

I turn away from him as Jane steers the conversation to safer waters.

"I'm Jane and this is my twin, Lizzie. Don't mind her, she is a menace to society," she says affectionately,

"Aw, shucks!" I gush and bat my eyes.

Charlie chuckles. "I would've never guessed you two were twins."

"You don't see the resemblance? What threw you off? Did my wonderful charm or Jane's beauty make you realize we are complete opposites?"

"Obviously your lack of manners," Will mutters.

"Darcy, man, cut it out," Charlie chides, before shaking his head in humiliation. "Don't mind him, he hates human life."

"I couldn't tell," I say dryly, before Jane shushes me as the house lights dim.

Then the singing began. At that point, I couldn't decide which I hated more - Darcy's personality (or lack of therefore), or the children popping up in my face, screeching like monkeys.

"This is why I didn't want to come," Darcy murmurs, "the children singing in my face."

"Oh, really? This is why I didn't want to come. I didn't want to sit next to a brooding Neanderthal."

"Do you have an off-switch or something? The insults just keep coming," he says, his blue eyes searching my face. He looks contorted between irritation and perplexity.

"Really, I'm a sweet girl. It's just people like you who really annoy me," I say pleasantly before tossing my hair and sending him a syrupy smile.

"Same here," Darcy snaps, infuriated.

"You're precious, aren't you?" I murmur, before Jane elbows me in the ribs to shut up.

I close my mouth, sulking in my seat. Who _was_ this guy? Seriously.

* * *

"My ears are still ringing from that garbage musical," I complain, laying face down on our couch, my head buried under a pillow.

"I thought it was a lovely way to spend a Friday evening," Jane comments.

Of course Jane would think such a thing. She didn't have to deal with Darcy poking her buttons all evening.

"You got his number, didn't you?"

I sit up and look at my blushing sister. She smiles shyly. "He was so nice, Lizzie."

After the play, Darcy and I followed behind the two people making googly eyes at each other. Charlie offered to walk us to our car, which I tried to decline, but he feverishly insisted. I sprinted back to the car, knowing Jane was in safe hands.

"I'm glad," I say encouragingly before making a face. "I thought him and Darcy were a gay couple at first."

"You didn't!" She pulls her hair up on top of her head and starts towards the stairs. Her eyes are dancing; she's happy.

"I was trying to pass time and my imagination got the best of me." Rubbing my eyes sleepily, I start to yawn. "Too bad the radio station screwed us over. I'd feel better if I'd never met Will Darcy."

Jane looks away quickly and I have to be somewhat gracious for the circumstances.

I lug myself on the couch and head to the kitchen. "If you marry Charlie, I'll be ecstatic. But I will still forever curse the day I met Darcy."


	3. The Dangers of Returning Home

"He was just so rude, ya'know, Char? I just know how I feel about this. Jane's so naive and Charlie was nice, but his friend took the gold for biggest asshole."

It was Sunday afternoon following the catastrophic _Cinderella_ play Friday night. Every Sunday since we were eighteen (hurricane and freezing temperature permitting), my best friend, Charlotte and I have headed to Carolina Beach to be blatantly honest with the other. It's bonding. The truest form of a best friendship really.

We have been laying out for at least two hours, dipping our toes in the water every now and then. Mainly Charlotte's been listening to me bitch and moan about Will Darcy and the stick up his ass.

Charlotte has been putting up with my shenanigans since preschool when I stole her _Pocahontas_ lunch box. What can I say? It beckoned to me. Charlotte is odd and quirky, and we have next to nothing in common. I think the fact that we are both brutally honest with each other and neither of us can stand bull shit helps the lack of sharing interests. In all honesty, stealing someone's lunchbox is like a friendship covenant - really seals the deal. I can't ditch her now - she knows too much.

Both of us are born and bred North Carolina girls from Wilmington. We lived in the Myrtle Grove area near Carolina Beach until we moved closer to the UNCW campus after high school. (Charlotte lasted two days at UNCW before she quit and put in her application to Cape Fear Community College. Six years later and uh...she's still enrolled. At least I think she is. I still question her student status.)

Living closer to town means that we are technically closer to Wrightsville Beach. As Charlotte and I were raised by certifiably insane, middle class families, we prefer to stick to our roots and faithfully enjoy the Carolina Beach shore that has a more welcoming atmosphere than Wrightsville Beach ever does. Plus, our Sunday sessions wouldn't be complete without the forty minute wait at Britt's Donuts when they finally open their doors every March.

Charlotte rolls to her stomach, cupping her heart shaped face in her palms. Her short blonde bob is pushed back by the giant sunglasses she has resting on her head.

"That bad?" She asks sympathetically.

"Chyeah," I mumble, shoving a bite of my second donut into my mouth. _Oh my gosh. Heaven. _Britt's has been open for six weeks and I've had to up my running time to not gain twenty pounds. An English teaching fellowship stipend for a doctoral program does not pay enough for me to buy a new wardrobe because I suddenly cannot fit into my clothes anymore.

"So, are you binge eating on Britt's because you're pouting over his insults?" Charlotte asks, pushing her sunglasses down on her nose.

"What? No." I ask, shoving another bite of sugary goodness in mouth and making a face at her. "I'm just binge eating out of the sheer lack of self-control I have." I dust the sand off my towel and lay back down. "My belly is seriously so happy right now. I would definitely wait in line for a dozen more."

I look back towards the boardwalk, seeing the extremely long line and groan. "Ok, no, I lied. Can't do it."

Charlotte pats my hand. "Good girl."

I make a face at her when I remember my plans for the evening. "Fran wants Jane and I to stop for dinner tonight."

"Ew. Don't go."

"I would, but she's pulling the 'You never come home and visit' card. As if we live so far away. I'm surprised Dad hasn't ratted me out about him and I having lunch once a week on campus since I was a freshman." I sigh. "I really wouldn't mind going home if Mom wasn't like: 'Who are you seeing today?' or 'Have you gained weight?' Then there's the whole drama with Kitty and Lydia. Mary is confused about life still. And, ya'know Dad is still trying to make it through life unscathed by Mom and his other daughters. No one can deny I'm his favorite."

"And this is why you're a cynical bitch." Charlotte rolls onto her elbow, peering down at me over the rim of her sunglasses. "Your dad likes you best because you're just like him. Two peas in a pod. Sarcastic, miserable souls with dry, uninterpreted humor."

"I know, right?" I shove her shoulder gently. "You jerk. For real. Jane and I are fairly normal."

"Most days, I'd say yes." A beat. "Perhaps this Darcy guy just didn't understand your wit - it can make grown men cry."

"Well, according to said man, I'm homeless and unemployed. And those words were uttered before I had a chance to even light into him mercilessly."

Charlotte kicks me with her foot. "Don't let one douche's ego ruin your life. Just don't say yes to anything else with Jane."

"That fairy will drag me along kicking and screaming. _She _has no mercy."

"She did take that self-defense course in college."

"I know," I lament. "That's why I fear the old, wise sibling."

* * *

"Oh! Jane! Lizzie! My girls have come home!" Fran was too busy squeezing the life out of me to realize that I was clearly carrying bags of take-out and she was squishing and sloshing food every which way.

Jane had stopped at the Long Island Eatery to grab dinner for the Bennet clan. I refused to show up at the house without her presence so I contented myself at Port City Java grading papers until she said she was nearing Myrtle Grove.

"Ma, cut it out, we live right across town. Hop on College Road and drive twenty minutes - and then bam!" She releases me and goes back to hugging Jane. I make sure none of the take out has exploded on me or anywhere else.

"Lizzie, that blouse is looking a little snug - did you notice the buttons straining around your chest?"

I glance down and send her a wry smile. "Why, Mother, no, I didn't notice at all." Granted I had previously inhaled four donuts, but I knew that the men's button up I had tossed over my bathing suit was by no means tight on me. "I'll just take it as a compliment that you are admiring my bust."

Jane giggles. "I must, I must, increase my bust." Mom pats Jane, completely missing her Judy Blume reference.

"Dear, your chest will come in someday. You're only twenty four. My chest came in fine when I had children."

Rolling my eyes, I head for the house, passing Kitty and Lydia fighting on the staircase. Lydia was on the phone and Kitty was trying to lunge for her. There were shouts of "I liked him first." "He doesn't even know you." "I hate you."

"Hello to you, too. I never come home or anything and this is the reception I get. Mhhm, thanks." I continue down the hall, yelling back at them. "I brought food too. Doesn't that get a hello? You know without Jane and me, you all would starve."

"Yes, we're perfectly aware, dear. That's why your mother wants you to come so often. We know it's the only decent meal we get besides the Holidays." Tom Bennet, if not the most detached father, is where I get my wonderful wit. Yes, the sod hides in his study, but I'm his favorite, so he gets my vote for father of the year. He's leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee.

My dad is fifty seven and I will admit, he is a good-looking man. He settled for my mother, I'm sure. His hair is still brown overall, but tinged with silver here and there. He wears it slightly long and he usually tucks it back with the glasses he perches on his head. And he always, always, always has a cup of coffee in his hand. I am my father's daughter.

"Dad, we just picked up subs and salads from the eatery," I say, sorting through the sandwiches to locate mine. "It's no five star meal."

"From the best restaurant in town that gives me vivid flashbacks of egg creams, diners, and amazing bagels," he reminds.

I shrug nonchalantly at him

Dad was born and raised in Long Island, New York. He moved around a bit for school, growing fond of the South. When a job at UNCW opened up two years after he got his PhD, Dad snatched it up. He's worked there for thirty years at least. And I swear when he eats deli sandwiches, that accent sneaks back.

"Lizzie, I've accepted your mother can't cook anything besides microwavable dinners." He sets his mug on the counter and helps me set the food out. Pausing, he catches sight of the pastry bag I am trying to sneak into my bag.

"Elizabeth Grace Bennett, do you have peach muffins in that bag?" He asks trying to wrangle to bag out of my hands.

"Hey, these are mine," I state, yanking it out of his hand and sliding my bag across the kitchen floor.

"I gave you life, I deserve one." Dad tries to maneuver around me, but I block his path.

"Technically, Mom carried Jane and me for nine months, so…" I hear footsteps. "They're coming, they'll see we have-"

"Did you buy muffins?" Lydia, asks, bounding into the kitchen. Kitty follows behind, her nose wrinkling. "I hate the eatery...ugh. Seriously Lizzie?"

I make a face at her. "Seriously Kitty?" I mock.

Yes, I know, extremely mature for a doctoral candidate. Bite me, I refuse to spend the next six years swamped with teaching composition and literature while writing a dissertation to steal my wonderful personality.

Dad winks at me and saunters out of the kitchen's side door just as Mom and Jane come in the main entryway. Estrogen enflamed women occupying the kitchen? Dad flees. Mom obviously must have heard about Charlie, because she is ecstatic.

"Oh, Jane is he rich? Does he have nice cars? A good family?" Mom is basically jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a female from the middle class would be in want of a good, rich husband, because what else is there in life if he's not rich?

"Better than ours," I grumble when a hand thwacks me upside the head.

"Thanks for saying hello," Mary complains, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her brows. Her hair is cut in a bob, highlighted with purple and blue.

"Well, well, did we get in a sharpie fight?" I bite my lip, examining her mess of hair. The cut is jagged, the color haphazardly placed. "Could we go back to brown? Even blonde is better."

"If I seriously didn't love you and your blatancy, I would push you in front of an SUV," Marcy concludes, punching my shoulder. Mary doesn't do physical expression of love.

"Jane already tried that," I remind, pointing at the sibling in question.

"What?" Jane asks, oblivious to my conversation with Mary.

"Senior year, Fluffy, speeding UPS man," I cryptically answer. Jane rolls her eyes.

"Oh, Fluffy." Lydia reminisces, grabbing a plate and arranging her food gingerly.

"I don't remember Fluffy." Kitty follows Lydia, both reaching for silverware as they walk towards the dining room.

"Remember? He hated you," Lydia states blithely.


	4. Meet the Bennets

Sitting down to dinner and listening to two teenagers and my mother being loud and obnoxious, reminds me of why I avoid coming home. When there are seven people in your family, it's hard for everyone to completely get alone. Personalities flare and words (or objects) can be tossed around. I have to say, if anything, my upbringing was excellent preparation for teaching college freshmen. Honestly, I'm not sure how my dad goes from the circus at home to dealing with his students - he has little room for a breather.

But I figure that's why Dear old Tom, the patriarch of our wonderful Bennet clan, is an ignorant hermit. I know he loves every minute of his job, but I also know that hiding in his study, refusing to be part of familial life is his only escape. Between college kids at work and a surplus of women at home, the man tries to hide his nose in a book. Not that I blame him or anything. I try to escape unscathed from the clutches of the Bennet women also. (I try to deny that I fall under this category.) While I know Dad loves Mom in his own special way, I'm almost positive he beats himself up, wondering why he ever got married.

Fran, my terrific mother (please ignore the sarcasm in my tone), is crazy. I've never doubted that she loves us - but her obnoxious, obsessive tendencies send me over the edge. She wants the best for us, which I get. What mother wouldn't want that? But how she projects herself and her demands - that is annoying. Her loudmouth annoys people to no end. Much to my chagrin, I acknowledge I inherited this trait from her, but the difference is, I can turn it off. She can't. At all.

How Tom and Fran have made it work all these years, I'm not sure. Especially when Jane and I arrived on the scene. We very much took over their lives with our varying personalities which meant twins that found every way possible to not do what the other was doing. Translation: _Oh, you're sleeping now? Nah, I'll make sure Mom and Dad never hit the pillow - and bam - repeat with the other twin._ We're clever really.

That eventually subsided when our parents got the upperhand and forced us to endure the twin escapades of matching outfits and sharing everything. Clearly I'm closest to Jane - we've been together since conception. And when we were finally tossed aside in the excitement of a new baby two years after our birth, I can say that I was able to enjoy Jane much more because the matching outfits stopped. Thank God.

Mary, the saint whose entrance placed a stop to the cliche obsession with forcing twins to look alike, is twenty two. She waits tables at a diner on Carolina Beach and still lives at home. Mary and I could pass off as twins more than Jane and I do honestly. Mary, Lydia, and I favor Dad with our brown hair and green eyes, while Jane and Kitty inherited Mom's dark brown hair and blue eyes.

I get along with Mary because she listens to me. I guess that sounds sort of trivial, but growing up with five sisters, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. And yes, I excel greatly at sarcasm and wit, but truly being heard is different. Yes, there's a smidge of sentimentality buried in me. Deep, deep down.

Of course, Jane knows everything, but I think that comes from that special sense twins have toward each other. They just know things. It's an internal hardware all twins are naturally wired with. Weird, right? With Jane, I don't ever have to say a word. She can just sense it - it is similar to having her look inside my head, analyzing me piece by piece, knowing every part of me and how I function. Mary, on the other hand, allows me to say how I feel. She takes the time to learn me, to let me expose myself in a way most people don't take the time to discover. (There truly is more to me than the chatterbox that attempts to bash Darcy's ego.)

While Mary and I favor each other in appearance, our personalities are worlds apart. Mary is quiet, introspective. She doesn't talk much, but when she does drop a line, it's packed. It surprises me how she could waste such potential by not choosing to go to college, but that's her choice. What can I say? I value education and I encourage people to go - not just because my career will flounder otherwise. But Mary is complicated; she's an enigma that deserves to be studied, but many choose to ignore her. When she drops her profound one-liners, be prepared to have a pen and paper handy. Take notes, scribble down her words and analyze them. She will make you question everything you thought you knew.

Lastly, the youngest of the Bennet bunch: Kitty and Lydia. Kitty is seventeen and Lydia is sixteen. They are constantly at each other's throats only to be best friends in the next second. They are dangerous, volatile almost, as they are horrifying teenage girls. I wish I could say their behavior was a recent development, but it's not. Jane and I moved out to become normal, to leave behind a treacherous life filled with heartache and turmoil. I'm being dramatic, but Kitty and Lydia are destructive forces.

They are my baby sisters; I do love them, don't get me wrong. I find there's a certain tolerance necessary for girls like Kitty and Lydia - especially Lydia. Despite Lydia being the baby, she is a natural leader. And that is not always a good thing, because she leads right down the path of destruction with Kitty following blindly. I have to say Lydia's behavior terrifies me. I look at her strength and her stubbornness and see myself, my tendencies. We seem to be exactly alike, yet strikingly different - it's ironic really. I have to say common sense is what they both lack immensely.

Despite the completely absurd dysfunctional qualities my family has, I can't deny that I love them. Many days I question my need for therapy due to their idiocy, but I reassure myself by remembering I made it out alive. Or Jane quotes the overused Tolstoy line from Anna Karenina and I tell her not be cliche. _"I was trying to help, Lizzie. Take my lovely literary reference as a lifesaver being tossed out to pull you back in."_ I'll roll my eyes and give her a gentle push.

* * *

As we are in the middle of dinner, Jane's phone starts ringing from inside her bag on the floor in the corner. Her eyes dart to the bag, bug-eyed, as everyone at the table immediately freezes and stares at her.

"Jane dear, are you going to get that? It's probably Charlie." Mom is leaning over the table and I imagine her crawling across the table to shove her ear up against Jane's phone.

"Charlie!" Lydia screeches, sidling up to Jane.

"You have to answer it now!" Kitty urges.

"Um...it's dinner time. I'll let it go to voicemail," Jane mutters, but Mom is already retrieving the phone and handing it to Jane.

"Hurry! It's him!"

Jane, looking rather pale, slides to answer and swallows visibly. "Hello? Hi Charlie, could I -?"

"So, Dad, how's the food?" Someone has to save Jane from embarrassment.

Catching my drift, he animatedly starts cataloguing food from Long Island and somehow drifts to talk of Chinese. "I've been dying to have Mr. Wong's lately. I love their fried rice. And that chow mein. Chicken and broccoli is great also. I can't say I've ever tried their baby squid...it looks repulsive actually." Dad takes a breath and cocks his brow at me. "Lizzie, this diversion isn't working. You know that, right?"

I take a drink solemnly, shrugging. "Worth a shot."

I glance at Jane, who's been listening for the past few minutes to Charlie talk.

"No, next Saturday night is great...Of course she'll come," Jane agrees, glancing at me. "No, she would love to see Will again."

"No Jane! I refuse!" I hiss and Dad smirks at me. Kitty and Lydia start complaining about my decision. Loudly.

"You pick, Charlie...That sounds great...Lizzie won't mind." Jane is smiling from ear to ear. Jane scoots back from the table and moves down the hall as Lydia and Kitty get even louder. She should've done that in the first place.

Dad reaches over and ruffles my hair. "Dating? My little girl is growing up so fast."

Mom's eyes flicker to me. "Lizzie, go out with the young man. You need to be married within the next year if you're going to start a family in the proper time frame."

Mary scoffs. "A proper time? The concept of a woman getting married by a specific age is an insult forced upon women by patriarchy." Her tone is fierce at first, but lightens up as she jokingly defends my honor. "Lizzie doesn't need a husband anyway. He would have to be submissive and deaf. Otherwise Lizzie would give him a coronary."

"Thank you, Mary." I turn to Mom. "You don't know this guy! First off, he's an asshole! Secondly, he has perfectly coiffed hair and wears suits!"

"Oh, we definitely can't have that!" Dad says, appalled. "He needs beanies, chucks, and scruff! By the way, watch your language."

"You're one to talk, old man." He reaches to mess up my hair. I try to block him and he starts pinching my cheeks.

"Daaaad. Stop."

"You are all weird," Kitty voices, her mouth full of a bite of sandwich.

Jane is in the doorway, ending her call. "I'll call you later," she says, her face soft. "Ok, bye." She ends the call, slides the phone into her back pocket and gently takes her seat.

"No, you hang up first - oh, no, you hang up first!" Lydia teases. She smiles fondly at Jane.

"I didn't say that!" Jane defends, her smile permanently in place.

"But you wanted to," Dad says, smiling over his glass.

"Oh Jane! A rich boy!" Mom cheers before remembering that I will never produce any grandchildren for her. "Lizzie, you have to go. For Jane."

"Yes, Lizzie. For Jane," Dad reminds. "We have to do everything for Jane."

Jane bats her eyes and puts her hands on her face, her smile silly. "Lizzie, pleeeeease. For me. Your twin."

"Kitty, we should have been twins. Then we could have shared clothes and secrets and everything." Lydia interjects, peering over Jane to look at Kitty, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

"You guys do that now," Jane points out. "Lizzie and I share brainwaves." Her ocean eyes zone in on me. She's on a mission. "Could you answer me now?"

"Remember you two did share a womb," Dad interjects as I clench my fork tightly in my hand. "That entitles you to be apart of every single event in the other's life."

Clearly no one realized what I had to deal with Friday night. Just looking at the man raised my blood pressure. It wasn't safe to send me to dinner with him. My health was at risk.

"Lizzie, this is important to Jane. It is a possibility she could marry than man and you could marry the other - even if he is completely horrible. You need to think of that family." Mom fluffs her fair. "Think of the things you could do for us. Send Lydia and Kitty to college, help me add on to the salon…" She trails off, fingering the tablecloth, smiling unabashed.

Kitty and Lydia start chatting about all of the shopping sprees they could go on - like so fetch. Mary bites her lip, hiding the smirk dying to slip upon her lips.

"Yes, Lizzie, the family," Dad says, grinning fully, enjoying every minute of this. "Think of us poor souls. Help Jane's future marriage. Meddle in her life, cause chaos."

"I will stab you!" I insist, waving my fork in Dad's face, ignoring my mother who has basically taken to dancing in her seat. "I know a girl who stabbed her brother in the arm with a fork. I'm willing to give it a shot. The fork was lodged in his arm for two hours before the parents came home and took him to the ER - don't push my buttons."

"Honey, I wouldn't dare. I was the one who pulled you off Don Higgins - among many others throughout your childhood - when he broke up with Jane. I'm sure you are the reason he still lives with his parents, crying himself to sleep every night, haunted by the rage in your cat eyes." Dad leans back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach.

I shrug. "I have many talents."

"Lizzie, the womb," Mary asserts, trying to get us back on track as our conversation has wandered too far.


	5. Lie Your Face Off

Will Darcy and Charlie Bingley had been best friends since infancy. More specifically, the day that Charlie broke Will's fire truck by throwing it down the grand staircase at a playdate that was probably the first memory that both had of the other. They had been three at the time and Will remembered smacking Charlie in the face before little hands started pummeling the other with fury in a cute attempt at mashing the other's face in. When both of their mothers pulled them apart, they immediately went back to playing together peacefully - or as peacefully as little boys play together without killing the other.

Their parents had been close friends and moved to the States from England to start at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. Having been destined to live the glamorous lives with swarms of money, when Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles Bingley I graduated they combined sums from their expansive inheritances and started Netherfield Graphics. Fresh out of college, bright-eyed and having adapted to the heartbeat of the South, they moved their lovely wives to the coast and flourished their company in Wilmington, North Carolina.

Netherfield Graphics rose to be one of the best graphic design companies in the nation. The Darcys and the Bingleys raised their families on Wrightsville Beach, letting their children grow up together. Eventually as all children do grow up, their children set off on their own journeys. In the wake of tragedy, Will Darcy, continuing his father's legacy at Chapel Hill was thrown into adulthood.

A simple phone call can change everything and in an instance, Fitzwilliam and Rowena Darcy were driving down 1-41 and were hit head on by a drunk driver after a company dinner in Charlotte. Will Darcy had been twenty at the time and had been thrown into raising his fifteen year old sister, Georgiana. Charles and Beatrice Bingley, overcome by sadness at the loss of their dearest friends, were unable to live in the house they had occupied across from their friends for over twenty years.

Now five years later, Will still deeply missed his parents. He had finished his Bachelor's and Master's degree at Chapel Hill, moved back to Wilmington, and took over the company his father had built from the ground up. Charlie, although rather reluctantly, took his father's role in the company, after much persuasion from Will.

Will still lived in his childhood home, unable to part with another part of his parents' legacy. Georgie, now nineteen, lived in an apartment close to the University of North Carolina - Wilmington campus. Georgie begged her brother to let her live on her own, desiring independence and a small sort of semblance. (Even if four miles across town).

At the age of twenty five, Will was still socially retarded and lacking greatly in the personality department when it came to meeting new people. He couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried not to fall behind that moody exterior and act like himself, it was impossible. Charlie constantly teased him about it - even Charlie's obnoxious sister Caroline had made sad jokes at his expense. Georgie and his closest cousin, Richard loved the chance to laugh at his expense.

As much as it pained Will to admit it, Charlie had been his saving grace throughout childhood, the awkward teenage years, and his difficult times in adult life. Charlie was easygoing, lovable, and slightly goofy (in that dorky, adorable way that made girls swoon). Just as Charlie had Will's back when it came to socializing, Will could inform his best friend that he was being an ass.

When Will begrudgingly allowed Charlie to drag his behind to see Cinderella, he was slightly pouty. Ok, overly pouty. Will tried to tell himself he was being a good best friend and repaying Charlie for his excellent friendship, it didn't reassure him. Their conversations at the office throughout the day consisted of Charlie being over-talkative and Will alternating between glaring and grunting.

"Dude, stop," Charlie finally pleaded. "I know you don't want to go, but lay off the PMSing. It's disconcerting."

Will narrowed his eyes, shooting arrows into Charlie's heart, hoping to crush his happy soul. No such luck. The ecstatic ginger was always smiling and giving nice words and compliments. People loved Charlie - he was just absolutely adorable and genuine. No one could have bad feelings against him. Hell, he should have been Mr. America.

Inside the theatre that night, Wll was ominous and pissed off. Although unintentionally, he wore his bad attitude like an ugly sweater. As they stood in the theatre aisle, Darcy started unknotting his tie and rolling his sleeves up and looking around. His eyes fell on a decently pretty brunette looking around the theatre. She was rather plain, but her eyes drew him in. She had large cat-like eyes; they were emerald green with thick lashes surrounding them.

Someone shoved him from behind and he spun around to find the culprit.

"Darce, I don't know where Row E is," Charlie stated, looking around at people passing, interrupting Darcy's search for the asshole who needed a fist in the face.

"Reason 5,467 why we shouldn't have come," Will snapped, mumbling a strand of curse words angrily under his breath.

Charlie walked a little bit further and smiled happily when he found row E. Instead of finding empty seats, the green eyed girl was sitting with a blonde.

"Damn it, those idiots stole our seats," Will muttered.

And then the whole evening went downhill. Will had never met anyone like Elizabeth Bennet and he found he had never been so severely annoyed or suicidal. That girl made him want to do terrible things. It also didn't help that from aside her nonstop chatter and sarcastic remarks, there were children squawking in his face, which definitely added to his bad mood.

To top one of the finest nights of his life off - enter scoff here - Charlie was literally floating on their walk downtown for drinks.

"Will, I've never met anyone like her. No one is like Jane. I think I'm in love," Charlie said, slightly breathless.

William Darcy, Grade-A hermit and social retard, wanted to grab Charlie's shirt by the collar and massacre him. "Charlie...you just met her. What if she's a serial killer?" Charlie stepped around him, annoyed. Will sighed. "How many girls have you been in love with this month? Take things slow."

"You just hate her sister. This is different - I can just tell."

Will glared at the back of his best friend's head, but kept his mouth shut. Charlie Bingley's ass had been saved too many times by Will Darcy.

* * *

Will was sitting at his desk on Tuesday morning, a few days after he had been dragged to hell and back by Elizabeth Bennet. He was still being tormented by those piercing emerald eyes when Charlie walked in whistling. All he needed was a top hat and some tap shoes to complete his cheery ensemble. Darcy was officially freaked out. What was wrong with the Bennet twins? They clearly had to be sirens luring Darcy and Charlie both to their danger. Why did Charlie attract the odd ones?

"Hello, Will. How are you today?" Charlie asked, sitting across from Will's desk, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"I was fantastic until you sauntered in here with all your joyfulness permeating my miserable existence," Will muttered.

"This is why we are friends, Darce," Charlie quipped."I bring happiness to your dark soul."

Will sighed, but gave him a small smirk. "Don't you have a job to do?"

"Yep, but I have a business proposal form you." Charlie leaned in close. "You see, I received word that a very important person was interested in having dinner with us next Saturday. It will be a good opportunity for our future."

"Who?" Will perked up. "That graphics company on the West Coast we wanted to buy out?"

"Sure," Charlie said, suppressing a grin. "Look your best - we have to impress them."

"I'm in," Will said, smiling brightly.

"I thought you'd say that." Little did Will know that the moment Charlie stepped out the door, he was trying to ponder the exact moment when he should break the news to Will that there was no business proposal. Just a wonderful - wonderful for Charlie at least - evening planned with a fantastic Jane Bennet and sharp-witted Elizabeth Bennet.


	6. Double Dating How-To's

1: Will Darcy was a jackass.

2: I didn't see the reason why I, Elizabeth Bennet, must spend my evening suffering with the arrogant and pretentious person in question. But I did know my sister deserved happiness.

3: Will Darcy was easy to aggravate and it meant more amusement on my part.

I was more than willing to enjoy myself by causing Will Darcy agony. It was a two for one deal, which if I had to suffer, I was more reluctant to know that Jane was getting the higher end of the deal. Jane, although ecstatic, was a bit of a mess, but who could blame her? She was new at this whole dating thing - even at the ripe ol' age of twenty four. But nearing mid-twenties is different than dating at fifteen. At this point, something really could manifest from a relationship. Who knows? Charlie Bingley might marry my sister...that's completely over-analyzing a first date and really grasping at some slim piece of hope though.

"Lizzie, we need to cancel!" Jane shouts from the front door of our apartment. It's a little after noon on Saturday and she's coming home from volunteering at the humane society. See? My twin sister is a tiny human body filled with sheer perfection. She leaves a trail of glitter in her wake.

I pop my head out of the kitchen to find my beautiful blond fairy of a sister, pacing in the living room. "I'm not ready for this, ya'know? He's seen the world - he has a real job."

Jane's a marine biologist, mind you. She has a real job too.

I open my mouth to remind her of this fact. She holds a hand up to shush me. "I should cancel...I should tell him I need to wait, travel, and then...settle down."

I toss the head of lettuce I'd been holding since my frazzled sister walked in the door onto the counter, and grab Jane's shoulders, turning her to face me. Her eyes are bulging out of her head in fear. "Jane. My darling sister, the one I love and would give my life for. This is one date. Just one," I say, holding up one finger, wiggling it in her face. "You two just met. I'm not saying nothing couldn't happen, but let's just focus on dinner. Not children, grandchildren, 401k's, or AARP memberships. 'K?

Jane nods, running her hands through her hair, her body still tense. "Deep breaths, Jane."

Her eyes flitter to mine and she laughs. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

I exaggerate feigning innocence and I become serious when she gives me a heated look. "Just a tad ridiculous, but it's fine." I move back to the kitchen. "No offense, but you smell awful. You probably should shower so Darcy's isn't offended by your odor."

A throw pillow flies at me from behind. "_What? _You smell like a dog."

"You're too judgemental, Lizzie," Jane chides pointedly. "Please behave tonight."

"Jane, when have I ever disappointed you?" I pat her cheek and turn on my heel. "Should I pick up stained clothing from the Salvation Army?" I smack my forehead. "Oh, wait! Even better I won't wear a bra or underwear. I'll wear some low hanging sweats that show off my crack and a white see-through t-shirt. Really give it some class. I definitely need some questionable stains on my clothing. I am supposedly homeless..." I pause, thinking of how to pull this off exactly.

Jane rolls her eyes, backing out of the room slowly. I hear her feet on the stairs and then a pause. "At least wear undergarments!"

* * *

"Lovely evening we're having tonight," Charlie greets. He is in jeans and a gray button up, looking slightly uncomfortable, but seemingly masking it well. Darcy is behind him, looking out of place in a navy suit.

"It's gorgeous out," Jane beams, before waving to Darcy. "Nice to see you, Will."

Her blonde curls blow daintily in the breeze from the Cape Fear River and I'm almost sure I see Charlie lean in to catch a whiff of her hair. Jane finally chose a light blue lace A-line dress and a pair of wedges. I've always been used to Jane getting the compliments - "_Jane, you're beautiful." "OhmyGOSH, Jane, you're skin is flawless." "Jane, how are you so gorgeous?" _I've never been jealous of Jane, because she rightfully deserves to be complimented. She's good on the inside and out, ya'know? Me, on the other hand, I did not resort to stained clothing. I wore a floral print dress, a pair of flip flops, pulled my wavy hair in a ponytail and called it a night.

I'm sure jackass can sense my lack of propriety in wearing what any born and raised beach girl would wear to dinner.

Will greets Jane politely and glances at me, which makes me want to scratch his eyeballs out. I give myself a pep talk: _OK, Lizzie, Will Darcy is an idiot, he hates human life and you, especially. Don't say anything that could be held against you in a court of law as defamation of character. He can and will sue you for every penny you're worth. Ignore every word he says, because he knows nothing._ Pep talk complete; I can now conquer the world.

"Hi, Charlie, how are you?" I ignore the miserable sod beside me and smile at the ginger man.

"I'm great," Charlie oozes, offering his arm to Jane. "Let's get our seats. Have you two been here before?"

"Nope. We homeless people usually try to get the remaining crumbs from the litter on the streets when dumpster diving is unproductive. Then, if necessary we mug little old ladies and try to make the money last between us," I say, following Jane and Charlie to the table out on the patio of The George on the Riverwalk.

As the words fly out of my mouth, I realize that I'm probably not going to be able to control myself. Will Darcy is just too easy to harass.

"Don't listen to Lizzie, she just likes to talk," Jane says and Charlie chuckles. "But no, we've never been here before."

_We've never been here probably because we grew up the notch above poverty level._ The socially acceptable level above welfare trash that is. In all honesty, with Dad as a professor at UNCW and mom as a hairdresser, we were by no means well off, but we never starved or had old, stained clothing...for the most part.

Charlie helps Jane into her seat and I start to sit down when Darcy suddenly appears behind me, offering me my chair. My brow crinkles at him and I purse my lips. Jane's eyes shoot daggers at me and I politely nod to him, even though slightly incredulous at his gesture.

For a few moments, we sit in that awkward silence where we are all pondering something beneficial and profound to start a conversation. Instead an uneasy tension settles over us. Charlie scratches his nose, embarrassed.

I see Darcy give Charlie a pained look and I feel like a flurry of silent messages pass between them. I am almost certain there is only one question going through Darcy's mind: _Why am I stuck next to the babbling brunette who is clearly _insane?

Guilty, I am insane. I slap my hand on the table, shaking the silverware a bit. I rather startle myself at my ardour. "Alcohol anyone?"

"I need something strong," Darcy mutters.

"Finally something we can agree on," I say, giving him a pointed look.

The waiter comes, taking our drink orders.

"Will, what's the wine we usually get called?" Charlie asks and Will points to the menu.

"Pinot Grigio?" Charlies questions, squinting at the menu. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Will says, glancing over the menu.

"I thought it was something else," Charlie studies the menu closely before ordering for Will and himself. _How cute. _

The waiter looks to Jane who demurely orders a white wine and a water. He turns to me and I smile brightly. "Hi, I'll start with the Sunset &amp; Purple Rain and keep 'em coming. Feel free to mix it up a bit. Surprise me. The more alcohol the better."

Jane laughs in a panicked sort of way - that sort of laugh where you imagine someone's eye start twitching. She calmly tells the waiter I'm kidding and he smirks at me.

"I'll just take a water," I correct. "For now. But keep the Sunset &amp; Purple Rain on the side incase you come out and see me floundering." I wink at him and mock-whisper. "I'm on a date and this guy hates me." I point to Darcy obnoxiously.

Darcy's face flushes bright red, and he scowls, completely confirming his unhappiness with the evening. The waiter walks away laughing after taking our dinner orders and Darcy looks at Jane. "I feel sorry for you. It must have been a rough childhood."

Jane shakes her head. "Not really. At least not because of Lizzie. We have four other sisters. Lizzie's fairly tame compared to our two youngest siblings."

"Good Lord," Charlie states, laughing.

"And I don't bite," I offer up. Really I couldn't supply the legitimacy of that statement, but it seemed a reassuring comment to provide.

"You have rather biting sarcasm," Darcy counters with a raised eyebrow in my direction.

I shrug. "Side-effect of being one of five girls. Too much estrogen in one household." I pick a roll out of the basket in the center of the table and cut it open. "So, Charlie, what is it that you do? Steal souls, make children cry, save the world?"

Charlie laughs and runs his hands through his hair, ill at ease by my putting him on the spot. "I, uh, well, I'm co-owner of Netherfield Graphics."

"Ooh, really?" Do you actually help with the designs or artwork? Or are you just the big boss man?" Getting comfortable, I lean back in my seat. Darcy stiffens when my knee accidentally brushes his thigh. Homeless people germs are contaminating his suit. Oh _no. _

Jane smiles, pleased that I'm breaking the ice, without breaking people's hearts or crushing self-esteem any longer.

"I don't really get the chance to get my hands dirty with the creative work. I'm basically trying to run the company," Charlie explains. "Will knows more about the artsy stuff honestly."

"Why would he?" I ask, ignoring him and his awkward staring habit. "He doesn't seem like that type. I imagine him as someone sitting in an office, conspiring on how to kill those below him."

"How can you talk about me as if I'm not sitting right next to you?" Will questions, scrutinizing me.

"It's a gift," I say with a cheeky grin.

Charlie chuckles and I receive another warning look from Jane.

Jane, being the ultimate peacemaker, decides to involve Darcy in the conversation. "What made you want to work for Netherfield Graphics?

Will loosens up to Jane, looking less out of place and even comfortable with her. "My father actually started the company with Charlie's father. Our fathers were from England. I have relatives in the South and they sort of persuaded my dad to move here." He tenses up a bit. "My parents passed several years ago and I took over my dad's position."

A wave of guilt passes over me and I sit there silent for a moment as he continues. "I grew up with this company. I love it. Long story short anyway."

I remember his comments about me, and then I figure he's a spoiled rich kid living off his father's legacy.

Charlie carries on with the conversation. "Will's a great photographer. He's actually usually dressed like a hipster in his downtime if you can believe it."

I look him up and down. "I don't see it." And I didn't. Not one bit. I imagine a surly Barney Stinson.

Will shrugs. "I am not even sure what a hipster is," he admits.

"Trust me, you fall more under the arrogant bastard category," I reassure, brushing crumbs off my dress before chastising myself. If I truly were a bum, a few crumbs wouldn't have worried me. Dang.

Charlie takes the bait. "Eh, he's more moody than anything. I have to work around his bi-polar schedule."

Will snorts. "And I have to work around your incompetent, unorganized ass who can't remember meetings or where you left your keys."

"Short term memory loss," Charlie defends.

"Does that affect organizational skills?" I question, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Uh, no, but I'd rather keep my position as the big boss man and not let my staff know I'm as terrible as Will says I am."

I raise an eyebrow at Jane and she smiles at Charlie, who raises his glass to Will. "To best friendship?"

Will looks at Charlie doubtfully and then shrugs. "Yeah, you jackass."

"Jane, I like him, you can keep him." I smile at Jane brightly as I point vividly at Charlie.

"Oh, I'm glad," Charlie adds. "I'm quite fond of Jane already."

Will stiffens at Charlie's remark and I glance at him cautiously to see him watching them closely. I can tell he hates Charlie's happiness and wants to piss on dreams to all who yearn for marital bliss. The two love-birds smile softly at the other until the waiter comes bringing our orders, forcing them to join the rest of the world.

"Well, you know us a little bit better - so what do you both do?" Charlie asks, including Darcy and I back into their little bubble as we start clanking our utensils against the diningware.

"Jane, I believe he wants to know more about you than anything," I point out, motioning for her to take it away.

She casts her eyes downward and smiles bashfully as she cuts her chicken - _too dang cute_, I think. "I'm a marine biologist," she says, with some reserve.

"Oh, Jane, be proud of it." I catch Darcy's surprised expression and snort. "You really thought we were morons, right?"

Charlie is grinning like a little boy - clearly ecstatic at this news. "I love fish."

"Too eat or….?" I motion for our waiter and ask for my special drink on reserve.

"Well, that too, I guess," Charlie confirms, but waves his hand dismissively. "Darcy and I grew up on Wrightsville Beach. Spent a lot of time underwater. Darcy has taken some awesome underwater photography."

Of course, they're from Wrightsville Beach. "Jane and I grew up closer to Carolina Beach. More familial atmosphere."

"Lizzie, our family fights like cats and dogs."

I nod. "My point exactly. Family atmosphere."

Darcy cuts in. "What do you do?"

"Besides dumpster dive and rob old ladies?" I purse my lips. "Well, I have a fantastic night job. Really brings in the profits. It's pretty strenuous but it keeps me in shape."

Darcy blanches and Charlie bursts out into laughter, as Jane rolls her eyes. "I'm _kidding." _

"She really can't help it. I wish I could say she acts like this for attention or some syndrome, but it's just how she is. I wouldn't have her any other way." Jane offers apologetically, tucking her curls behind her ears, and giving Charlie and Darcy a soft smile.

"Thanks, Jane, I know I'm great," I say, providing a princess wave and a cheesy smile. Growing serious, I turn to Darcy. "In answer to your question, I'm working on my dissertation at UNCW. I have a teaching fellowship there for the English program."

Darcy looked at me for a full minute and I think he was trying very hard to maintain composure. I am almost positive he had convinced himself I truly was into luring men in for profit. Conversation sort of drifted for the remainder of dinner, nothing of any significance being discussed. Small talk, college horror stories, life on the coast - conversation topics that are safe terrain for people like myself.

After dinner, Charlie and Jane walked together along the riverfront leaving Darcy and I awkwardly in tow.

"You've never left Wilmington?" Darcy asks, breaking the silence.

"No, I've completed all of my degrees at UNCW. Our dad's a professor there - cheaper tuition ya'know. Minus the loans we took out to live on our own and escape the Bennet Circus."

"You've never felt the need to live somewhere else or travel or anything?" He asks it with a tone of superiority. My mouth drops open. I'm pretty content with my accolades. Actually, I'm _proud _of what I've accomplished. And then this jackass - "_Excuse me?"_

"I'm just saying-" Darcy starts, but I interrupt him.

"I don't care what you are saying. Who are _you_? Do you have _any righ_t to condemn what I've chosen to do with my life?"

"All I meant-" Darcy tries to defend himself again but I cut him off.

"Ah! Nope! Don't want to hear it." I march away, completely irritated by his insinuation. Oh, what I do for my sister.


	7. Awkwardville

Lugging my messenger bag filled with bits of scrap paper with random paragraphs, my laptop, and my students' midterm papers, I mount the stairs in my apartment complex. Two days after my "date" with Will Darcy and I still have not stopped seething. I cannot believe the man. He thinks he is so high and mighty. The amount of arrogance - ugh, what I would like to do to him. There are no words to describe how I would finish him off.

My cell phone starts ringing and I dig for it out of my bag, pausing on the staircase. Charlotte's picture is lit up on the screen.

"Shoot me in the face, Char," I grumble. "Just shoot me in the freaking face. I know why you're calling me - Jane's date went fantastic. Mine, not so much. Will Darcy deserves to be mauled by bears, attacked by wild boars, or bitten by a venomous snake."

"Wow," Charlotte says. "And I was hoping for a shotgun wedding this summer, so much for having high hopes for you."

"Shut your face," I snap. "I hate him." Leaning against the wall in the stairwell, I chat with my best friend as the spring beach breeze billows through the open windows. "All he does is brood and think that he is so high above everyone. When he manages to speak, it's about how he is so worthy."

I catch myself talking animatedly, miming to no one in particular and I stop myself. Oh, Lizzie, you're a fool.

"So, basically we're still on the lookout for finding you a soulmate," Charlotte states and I sigh.

"I guess, but I never really said that I was ya'know, desperate," I return. "I've rather accepted the fact that most men are terrified of me. What about you?"

"What about me?" Charlotte's voice sounds defensive and I bite my lip.

"You don't want a soulmate? What did you do - run off and find someone amazing and leave me in the dust? Did you get married in the course of the week?"

Charlotte's known for finding the losers. She deserves better, but always settles. It amazes me how someone so self-assured and confident can lower her standards so easily.

"No to both, but I did re-meet someone," Charlotte says sheepishly.

"Who?" I'm suddenly extremely wary. There's a long list of men that could waltz back into Charlotte's life and they are all losers or assholes.

"Um, Bill Collins," Charlotte mumbles. For a moment I can't catch my breath. Partially because I'm trying to bite back words. The lack of oxygen makes me feel like I'll fall backwards down the stairs.

"Shit," I manage. Deep breath. Bill Collins grew up in the same neighborhood as Charlotte and I. He went for Jane first, who politely declined. Then he attempted to kiss me, after I denied to be his prom date. He thought I was playing hard to get. (I hid his inhaler during gym class senior year.) Way to go for my best friend to take the leftovers of Jane and Lizzie Bennet.

"Oh, well, are you married?" I push some hair out of my face and start beating my head off the wall.

"Lizzie, just shut the hell up if you're going to act ridiculous. I was waiting in line at the bookstore and he was behind me. We started talking, he asked me out. No big deal. If you can't be supportive, don't talk to me. You're supposed to be my best friend. I don't want to hear your freaking sarcastic remarks or that other you call words." Charlotte is seething and bitter.

I sigh. "Charlotte, I'm being honest. Bill Collins? For real? I'm trying to be supportive. I'm being your best friend by asking, what are you thinking?"

My phone beeps and the line goes silent - she hung up on me. I can't believe it. I continue the last staircase and exit the stairwell. I attempt to fish for my keys without removing the bag from my shoulder. I turn the corner and see a young girl leaning against an apartment door, fiddling with her fingernails.

I bite my lip. _Should I talk to her, offer help? Or keep my "shit [I] call words" to myself? _I'm not a terrible person, contrary to popular belief so I stop and look down at her.

"Hi, hon, you okay?" I ask and her blue eyes dart up at me. Relief fills her features.

"Thank God!" she exclaims. "I locked my keys inside along with my phone and my dignity. I've been out here for two hours. No one was at the front office, so I'm just chilling here." She smiles sadly.

"Been there a few times myself." I hand her my phone. "Call away."

"Thank you so much!" She taps out some numbers and lifts the phone to her ear. I let myself into my apartment, not wanting to completely eavesdrop.

"Hey, know how you said you wanted to make a copy of my key because I'm forgetful and disorganized?" She sighs, rolling her eyes. "Okay...I know...it wasn't my fault...Fine...I'll wait here, in the hallway, for what six hours, before you get off work...No, don't worry about me...I'll bathe in the gutter or something, won't finish my homework and fail out of school. It's cool."

I snort and she looks at me. "Sorry," I whisper.

She waves her hand, acknowledging I'm forgiven. "Fine, fine, I'm just running my mouth because I can't believe I locked myself out. I'll see you in an hour. Please hurry. Love you too." She ends the call and returns my phone. "Thank you so much."

"You need somewhere to hang for a bit?" I ask and he eyes light up. "I'm Lizzie by the way. I have a clean criminal record - despite the fistfihgts I've started and my verbal spars with unsuspecting victims. I don't want you think to I'm going to take you inside and kill you."

I pop the door open and motion for her to enter.

She giggles, standing up and dusting off her shorts. "I'm Georgie. I couldn't impose though."

"Come on, come on. An hour isn't soon." I smile at her and motion more rapidly.

"Well, in that case…" Georgie smiles and follows me inside.

Georgie saunters into the spotless apartment (minus the leaning stacks of books on the coffee table), purses her lips, and sort of hangs out by the door. When Jane and I first moved into our apartment, we were thrilled. We had those moments of "How are we going to pay for everything?", but those were easily replaced by the freedom - and the fact that there weren't seven people occupying a house. Jane is easily more organized than I ever am, but between the two of us, we seem to enjoy no longer living in the chaos we were raised in. I can do without bras popping out of kitchen cupboards or underneath seat cushions.

"You can sit down," I say, motioning to the couch and armchair in the living room. I toss my keys inside my bag and hang it up before moving to the kitchen.

Georgie sits in the armchair and looks at the picture collages hanging in the living room Jane made us a few years back. There's something vaguely familiar about the young girl, but nothing completely obvious to me that jumps out. She has dark brown hair and bright blue eyes.

"So, you're a university student, I assume," I toss out, unable to stand anything awkward when I'm used to talking a mile a minute. She seems hesitant which makes me realize she must be a first year student. "Freshmen?"

"Oh yeah. Freshmen." Georgie gives me a half grin, fiddles with the end of her t-shirt, clearly uncomfortable. "What gave it away? The fact that I left my keys in my apartment or that I was internally freaking out that you would take me into your apartment and chop me up into a million pieces?"

I laugh. "I enjoy _The Lovely Bones _reference, but I'm not about that life. I do feel the need to beat people up frequently, but I don't kill people." I bite my lip. "Usually. There are a few people worming their way on to my list."

Except I felt that Darcy had basically signed his name on my list. He must be a masochist.

I continue, "I'm really not that hard to get along with you unless you're offended by sarcasm or a chatterbox mouth."

"Nope. Not at all," Georgie reassures.

"Great. Want something to drink? Water? Sweet tea?" I offer, pulling two glasses from the cabinet.

"I would love some tea. I am parched. I never realized sitting in the hallway for two hours could take so much energy." She pops out of the seat and makes her way to the kitchen. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm good." I fill the glasses and carry them to the kitchen table, where Georgie joins me. I can't help but notice something familiar about her - and it's driving me crazy. I cannot, for the life of me, place my finger on it. She's taller than me, but I'm 5'3' so just about every full grown person is taller than me. Her dark straight hair cascades down her back, and she has a thin, willowy figure. I must be staring at her like a freak, because she smiles uncomfortably before taking a drink.

"I really do appreciate you letting me come in." Georgie breaks the small silence that ensued during my mental search and analysis. "I just moved in at the start of the semester. My brother didn't want me to leave, but I had to cut the apron strings. I mean, he only lives on the other side of town. I never knew a person as suffocating." She snorts, rolling her eyes. "God, I'm making him sound awful. He's truly the best person I know and I love him…"

I wave my hand dismissively. "Completely understand. I grew up with four sisters- my twin sister, Jane actually lives here with me - but my mother is one of those people who has to know everything and have her say about everything. Being from a large family, you'd think it would be the other way around, but Mom has always been mother hen, keeping her eye on all of us girls, not letting us get too far away. It doesn't help that she is always running her mouth either. I might talk a lot, but trust me, my mother is worse. My sisters are worse too." I catch my breath, tucking a leg underneath me to get comfortable. "My mom and sisters have no tact, manners...or common sense really. That's why Dad hides in the study."

"Five girls? How did your dad survive?" Georgie asks, bewildered.

"With wit and humor." I roll my eyes. "He's a ridiculous sod, but I love him dearly." I finish off the rest of my tea with a glance at the clock. Jane will be home soon. "You might actually get to meet Jane. I'm working on my dissertation and she has a big kid job, compared to my woeful fellowship stipend, so it helps us not end up on the streets to share rent. She should be home from work soon - it'd be good to meet her incase this happens again and you need back-up."

Georgie laughs. "I don't plan on it becoming a regular occurrence. Not that I mind you - I'd rather just come over because I want to visit."

"Rather than me holding you against your will, I understand." I shrug. "Well, trust me, you'll love Jane. She is the epitome of all things beautiful and wonderful in the world."

I run my fingers through my curls and faintly remember that before I found the locked-out Georgie in the hallway, I had been arguing with Charlotte. Mental note: call Charlotte and apologize. Groveling and ass-kissing is required.

"Does your brother know where to find you?" I ask, realizing that he may think she has been kidnapped if he doesn't see her sulking in the hallway when he arrives.

"Oh, probably not," Georgie says, biting her lip. "He was on his way back from a meeting in Myrtle Beach. Should I call him or let him worry?"

I scoff. "That's your call. I don't encourage family estrangements unless it's with my own family."

I grab my phone off the counter and slide it across the table. "It's all yours, kid."

* * *

Forty minutes later a knock sounds at the door. I just changed into my IDGAF/I-embrace I'm-a-slob-after work clothes. Sliding across the hardwood floor in my socks, I reach for the knob to prevent a wipe out. Tearing the door open, I almost pee my pants at the person on the other side.

"You lost?" I snap more forceful than I truly intended.

Will Darcy doesn't exactly look thrilled to see me either. He looks as if he just shit a brick.

"I-I don't know," he grumbles. "My sister…"

"Hey, Will," George greets, peering around me.

My stomach lurches and I hear wheels clicking in my head. "That's who you look like!" I smack myself in the forehead and they both look at me oddly.

Will turns to Georgie. "What are you...I…?" He trails off, staring at us both dumbfounded.

"Don't look at me, I just found her in the hallway." I hold up my hands innocently.

If I'd have known she was a Darcy, I may or may not have let her in...Who am I kidding? The girl has been nothing but a sweetheart.

"Is there a problem?" Georgie questions, still castling over me from behind. I open the door wider and she moves beside me.

"You let her in your apartment?" Will questions, incredulous. His blue eyes are crisp and clear.

"You can decontaminate her later. I know failure is catching." I lean against the door, giving him an irritated glance. "Not to boost my self-confidence or anything, but I saw her sitting in the hallway and offered assistance. I could've just walked past her and left her in the hall. I'm not as horrible as you may think."

In this moment, I wish I was a little bit taller so I could feel more powerful and intimidating. I remember Georgie beside me and I acknowledge her. "No offense to you, Georgie, I think you're a great girl. If it'd been your brother, I'd left his ass out there."

Georgie holds up her hands in defense and shakes her head. "None taken."

Will looks down at me rather grim. "I'm sure you'd have done more than that."

I snort. "You're starting to understand how this works - this whole me not liking you thing. I'm rather proud of this progress." I look at Georgie's confused expression. "Two evenings I had two waste listening to your dear brother complain and sulk."

Darcy interjects, "And I had to hear you run your mouth about every possible damned thing. I mean, _do you ever shut up?"_

"No," I say, bluntly. "Especially not when you're standing on the other side of my door. It's ironic really that you're her brother."

I hear a giggle escape Georgie's mouth and I have to wonder if Will Darcy was perhaps raised by wolves. Will's eyes dart to his sister and he scowls even more - if that's at all possible.

"Do I even want to know how you two know each other?" Georgie questions with a smirk.

I pat her arm. "Maybe when you're older. I don't know if Darcy can handle much more this evening."

I point at Darcy's chest. "But just to make myself clear, I have lived in this apartment complex for several years now. I'm not moving out on your behalf. She can suffer with me across the hall." I turn to the smirking brunette. "I really have nothing against you, Georgie. It's the brooding neanderthal that I have a problem with."

"I hate how you talk about me as if I don't exist," he snaps and I laugh wryly.

"Georgie, I hate to kick you out, but I think you better escort your brother elsewhere, before I kick his ass. I figure he's a crier so it wouldn't be pretty."

Will's mouth drops open, just as Georgie nods and scoots out the door. "Come on, Will, we don't need you to get arrested for civil misdemeanours tonight. It wouldn't look good on your record, you have a future to think of."

She gives me a wink as she pushes him towards her apartment door. "I wasn't going to do anything." Darcy is whining.

"We can't take the risk," Georgie says, turning to wave. "Bye Lizzie, thanks for letting me crash here. I've enjoyed the amusement."

I smile darkly. "Anytime. Stop by and meet Jane someday. We can plot on how to kill your brother - if you ever feel the need." I add the last part, hoping to not offend my new friend.

"Definitely," she says, to which gauges Will's reaction. "_What?" _

"I mean, to meeting your sister," Georgie adds and I laugh, shutting the door.

I think I like that girl.

* * *

Will received the phone call from Georgie right after his second meeting of the day. He had been dumping his briefcase into the backseat when Charlie tossed him his phone. To his chagrin, Georgie had locked her keys in her apartment, which was why he had insisted she let him have a copy of her key in the first place. (We won't mention the tiny thrill of being right at her expense). He knew it was bound to happen.

Georgie had a tendency to be flighty at times. Not that she wasn't terrific, but once in awhile - or ya'know on a regular basis - Georgie had a tendency to forget important things. _("Forgetting to not put the gas cap on once is OK, but three times in one month. That is a problem." "Will, I got distracted...There was a…" "What was it?" "A gorgeous guy." "No dating until you are thirty-five.")_

He climbed the stairs that afternoon not ever expecting Elizabeth Bennet to answer the door. Although he would always rush to Georgie's side no matter the situation, he immediately wanted to back away quickly. If he cared to admit, he wanted to run away screaming like a girl.

Will was aware he was socially awkward - he couldn't say he embraced that fact - but he was aware nonetheless. Elizabeth made him even more awkward; she made his moody exterior have an even more definitive weight. Will felt off balance, like he walking sideways. He couldn't ever say the right thing.

When Elizabeth opened the door, he nearly had heart failure for the second time in a week. The first time being when Charlie admitted there was indeed no business meeting. Driving to the restaurant that evening, Darcy almost drove his beautiful silver beemer up a telephone pole.

"Darce, don't get angry at me when I tell you this," Charlie warned as Will navigated his car through downtown traffic.

Will glanced at his best friend. "Did you do something really stupid, Charlie?"

Charlie smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Depends on your interpretation."

Will sighed. "Do I really want to know now? Can it wait until after the meeting?"

"It's sort of about this whole meeting thing," Charlie said, motioning with this hands. "There really was no dinner meeting to begin with."

Will slammed on his brakes and spun in his seat to glare at Charlie. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The color drained out of Charlie's face and cars were honking in all directions. "Will, go."

Tires started spinning as Will accelerated forward. "Tell me what you did. I may or may not let you make it alive."

"We're going on a double date with Jane and Elizabeth Bennet, the girls from the play," Charlie said quickly, watching with fear as Will sped through a yellow light on Main Street.

"You jackass! What were you thinking!"

"I wasn't," Charlie added, feeling relief when Will finally whipped the car into the restaurant parking lot.

This was the first incident this week of his heart problems.

Now, to add to his stress, Elizabeth Bennet was on the other side of the door he had just knocked on. The one where his sister had been waiting. Good Lord. Granted if Elizabeth never talked, he could tolerate her. That was her biggest downfall - when she opened her mouth. It was like, the second her pretty little lips parted - a whole plethora of things he could live without ever hearing escaped. Verbal diarrhea, you could say.

And yes, he found her slightly attractive. She was pretty in a plain sort of way. Plus, she had nice eyes. OK, they were actually pretty amazing. Large and green with big thick lashes - every emotion flittered through them. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he would admit that he was captivated with her eyes. But that would mean confronting his internal self, which he didn't do often. Because then he would have to admit that he thought it was cute how short and petite she was. She would fit right under his chin. Then Will Darcy remembered that when Elizabeth Bennet opened her mouth, his head hurt.


	8. Let It Roll

Georgiana Darcy took after her brother in the fact that they were both quiet-natured and somewhat backwards. Where Will came off as an arrogant jerk, Georgie seemed sweet and wonderful, which she truly was. As she sat in the empty booth at _Fork N Cork, _waiting for Will and Charlie, she pulled a textbook out of her satchel and started reading.

Georgie had lived in Wilmington most of her life. For a few years she lived in London with Charlie's parents right after her parents had passed. She had been homeschooled following her parents' death and going to UNCW had been her first time in a classroom in nearly five years. Ruth Reynolds, who by title was basically Will and Georgie's nanny, traveled with her for a bit before returning home to take care of Will. Ruth was like Alice from _The Brady Bunch _\- she was meddlesome, encouraging, intelligent, and slightly goofy. Ruth had been especially appreciated after Fitzwilliam and Rowena had passed away, as she morphed into a maternal figure rather than solely the charming housekeeper for the Darcy family.

Georgie had moved back to North Carolina over a year ago, started college, and in January begged her brother to let her get an apartment close to campus. Will still lived at Pemberly, the beach estate of their childhood and probably would always live there because it meant a great deal to him. He was reluctant to let Georgie move, even if across town, but realized she was old enough to go out on her. Georgie was sure Will was regretting his decision due to the infamous, Elizabeth Bennet.

Georgie was still puzzled about Lizzie, and Will didn't offer more information than necessary, but Georgie had good connections. Charlie would definitely have the dirt on her brother.

"Hey kiddo, want to join the living?" A deep voice asked from above.

Georgie lifted her head and smiled at her brother, who grinned boyishly as he slid into the booth across from her.

"If you buy me food, we can talk," Georgie said, closing her book and slipping it back into her bag. "Where's Charlie?"

"Running late, I guess," Will mumbled, taking a sip of his drink.

"I ordered Charlie a Coke," Georgie supplied. "He does like Coke, right?"

"Eh, he'll live if he doesn't," Will said. He made a face at his sister and opened the menu as the buoyant redhead in question jogged over to their booth. He plopped down next to Will, catching his breath.

"Glad you could fit us into your busy schedule," Will said dryly.

Charlie nudged Will and reached over to ruffle Georgie's hair. "Hey there, where've you been all my life?"

Georgie playfully batted her eyelashes and then giggled. "Aren't you married yet?"

"Well, I am seeing someone," Charlie said, absolutely beaming from ear to ear.

"Aww. Charlie! Why didn't you tell me?" Georgie asked, clapping her hands excitedly. "Is she pretty? What's her name?"

"Georgie, let's not talk about -" Will started to say, but Charlie cut him off.

"Jane Bennet," Charlie gushed. Recognition flittered across Georgie's face and pieces started coming together slowly.

"Lizzie's twin sister?" Georgie glanced at her brother, biting her lip to keep the smile from permeating her features.

"You know Lizzie?" Charlie asked as Will laid his head on the table dramatically.

"Can we not talk about Lizzie?" Will pleaded, sitting up and glaring at his best friend and sister.

Ignoring Will's requests, Charlie and Georgie continued their conversation. Georgie explained being stranded and Lizzie's generosity.

"Seriously, let's change the subject," WIll begged, massaging his temples.

"What is with you lately?" Charlie looked at Will oddly, then rolled his eyes. Giving Georgie a smirk, he went in for the kill. "Personally, I think he wants to bang Lizzie."

Georgie laughed aloud, not the least bit embarrassed in discussing her brother's sex life. Will's cheeks flamed brightly, and he glared between the two maniacal beings.

"Who's the last girl you were with, man?" Charlie asked. "Enlighten me. If I recall correctly, it was probably the last intern we had a year ago."

"_Charlie_," Will chided, worried his sister would think badly of him. Georgie seemed unaffected by this news.

"Will has a weakness for powerful women," she offered up nonchalantly.

"_Georgie!_"

"What? You do!" Georgie gave him an innocent look, spreading the front of her top down and shrugging. "It's a power struggle thing. You're used to being in charge and here comes Lizzie, all I don't give a damn what you think, I'll tear you to shreds, and then look at you. Weak at the knees."

Charlie covered his mouth with his hand, shaking with laughter. "You _want_ her."

"I want this conversation over." Will looked at both of them sharply, a hint of a smile trying to escape. "Now."

Even if Charlie and Georgie made the conversation in jest, Will was slightly worried there was some truth behind their words. Something about Lizzie set him on edge. The fact that she was blatantly honest and void of any need to be dependent on someone was slightly endearing to him. She spoke her mind, which he appreciated when too many people never said how they truly felt.

"Will started this whole thing. Jane told me why Lizzie isn't your number one fan." Charlie leaned back and smiled at Will conspiringly.

"The hell?" Will mumbled and looked wordlessly between his best friend and sister, the comment jarring him from his own thoughts about Lizzie.

Charlie continued without Will's approval and told Georgie the truth about her brother. "He was pissed about me taking him to see Cinderella and Lizzie overheard him say some rude comments. He basically said she was homeless and a moron."

"Will, seriously?!" Georgie dramatically put her face in her hands. "Haven't I taught you better? You don't treat girls like that! Even if they are sluts, or whores, or basically deserving it - just no!"

"I never said that about her," Will defended. He scrambled to recall such an insult. The entirety of the evening flashing before him. His irritation and annoyance, his eyes falling on her green eyes and then - yes, he had hastily made that comment. Clearly that was the farthest thing from the truth Will had come to learn about Lizzie.

"You did." Charlie stated bluntly, shrugging with his hands.

Will glared, until Georgie reached across the table and fondly pinched her brother's cheeks, forcing a smile to slip through his glaring features.

* * *

With a Starbucks carrier in one hand and homemade brownies in the other, I kick Charlotte's apartment door. Desperate to make amends, I immediately got my act together and decided to ignore the fact that she was dating a loser. Which meant that I needed to bake. Baking for me usually doesn't end well, because I decide to try five recipes at once. My students tend to benefit, so at least I'm feeding the hungry then, I suppose.

Now...I wait. In the most horrifying part of downtown in a sketchy apartment complex. I kick the door yet again, yelling for her to open the damn door. I hear the unlatching of a hundred different locks and I eagerly inch closer. The door flies open, revealing my best friend - baseball bat in hand - wearing a nightshirt that barely covers her thighs. Her eyes widen, seeing me on the other side, and she starts to shut the door.

"Char, let me in. I'm sorry!" I plead. "I bought you a white mocha. It's a large!"

The door opens back open and she reaches for the coffee, which I pull back.

"It's my favorite," she snaps.

I pout. "Mine too. Let me come in, or you can't have it."

"Fine, fine, fine." Charlotte ushers me in, grabs her cup and pads toward the kitchen which overlooks a back alley where many drug deals ensue. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"I'm pregnant," I deadpan and she rolls her eyes.

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. Best friends are so difficult. We pick these people, expecting them to stick by our sides through everything, to be completely honest with us and yet, no matter how strong a friendship may be, there's a small margin of us we don't want them to infringe on. With Charlotte, she does not want me to offer up any opinion I have about who she dates. It really is hard for me to butt out because I care for her - I want her to be happy. By no means does Charlotte need my protection from men, but for someone so sure of herself, she has no idea how to handle herself around men.

For so many years, Charlotte never received any attention from guys. In school, she was mousy. Not quiet per se, but rather immune to boys. She never really had a serious relationship (not that I have had many either). I am fiercely independent and I don't take people's shit, but regardless, I do want something special with the right person. I think it comes from the fact that my dad has stayed with my mom all of these years and despite everything that my mom does to annoy everyone, I occasionally see him glance at her with this look. And with just that brief look at her, I can see so much emotion packed into it. My dad, even if needing to hide most evenings from everyone, does love my crazy mother. And I find myself wanting that someday also. If anything, my abrasive personality will chase off everyone except the poor man who willingly decides to put up with me.

Charlotte on the other hand, I'm not sure about. I don't think she ever wants to fall in love. I see her hopping from one guy to the next, men who are never worthy of her loyalty, and she lets them mistreat her. I don't understand it at all, but she is my best friend in the world and I have to unswervingly remain her most trusted ally in all things.

I look at her, my features completely serious. "I am sorry. It is your life, Charlotte. Whatever - whomever - you choose, is your decision. And I will support whatever the outcome of your decisions are. I shouldn't be so judgemental about your choices. I am concerned for you, I do worry about you. You are my best friend." I soften a little bit, my tone losing its ardour. I squeeze her arm. "If you are happy, then I am ecstatic for you."

I am pretty sure I croaked on that word, but I smile at her.

Charlotte beams at me. "I am happy, Lizzie. Really."

"Good. Don't expect me to always be nice to him," I defend, drinking a sip of my coffee and moving to the couch, plopping down.

"I don't ever expect you to be nice, Lizzie." Charlotte settles into her recliner, kicking her legs over the armrest.

"I can be nice sometimes. For example, just the other day I let…" My voice trails off as I recall the incident with Georgie and Darcy.

"What did you do, Lizzie? Give a homeless man half of your sandwich? Donate a penny to the Salvation Army?" Charlotte raises her eyebrow at me, her curiosity piqued.

"You make me sound horrendous."

Charlotte smirks. "If the shoe fits…"

I cock my head at her. "Yeah no, it doesn't."

"I know, I know. You are not terrible, just stubborn and opinionated. So what did you do, Mother Theresa?"

I purse my lips, thinking how to deliver this story nicely. "Well, Will Darcy's sister lives across the hall from me and she accidentally locked her keys in her apartment." I explain the rest of the story nonchalantly.

"She's not evil?"

"Surprisingly, no," I confirm and start to examine the split ends on my hair. "She's actually pretty great. We've talked a few times since the incident."

Charlotte gives me a cautious look, then takes a deep breath. "Did you ever think Darcy might kind of like you?"

I look her over. "Excuse me?"

Charlotte leans forward. "You're not exactly...approachable. People can sense you're ardour in verbal sparring. Granted I know your students love you, and generally most people enjoy your company once they realize you are flattering and hilarious in every way, but you suck at making friends."

I glare at her and Charlotte rolls her eyes. "Lizzie, listen. Some people really are dicks. Some people have bad days and say things they don't mean. Did you ever consider the fact Darcy just spouted off and you've just been a jerk for the heck of it since then? Maybe Darcy is really trying to talk to you now but he doesn't know how to not piss you off."

I'm slightly taken aback by Charlotte's words. "Sure. Makes sense," I reply with a bite.

With a light thwack upside my head, I look at my best friend and she smiles at me. "Lizzie, you know how you are a concerned individual about my love life? The feeling is reciprocated. I have a feeling this Will Darcy is like, 'Hm...I kind of like this girl for whatever reason,' and he wants to talk to you. But you, being Elizabeth Bennet, are all, 'I piss on grown men's dreams.'" I watch in astonishment as Charlotte impersonates both Darcy and I, pacing the floor in front of me.

"This isn't first grade. People are supposed to be mature and kindhearted, not stealing crayons and crackers if they have a small crush on you."

Charlotte snickers. "When did Will Darcy steal your crayons?"

I huff. "Theoretically speaking, but all the same, he is irritating and he does not like me. And vise versa."

"I'm finding you rather irritating at this moment." She sticks her tongue out at me. "You aren't being mature by basing this man's entire existence and character off of two or three comments. If we're wanting to be adults about this, you are handling this very much like a teenager," Charlotte says slyly and I sigh.

"Charlotte, Charlotte, when will you ever grow up?" I question, in a playful tone.

"Lizzie said ironically."

"Okay, I get it," I say, holding up my hand. "Let's move on to the reason why I came over. How did Bill waltz back into your life?"

"On his feet obviously," Charlotte muttered, before taking a big gulp of coffee. "I told you this already. At the bookstore...in February."

"February?" I pause to count backwards. "You've been talking to him for three months? And you didn't tell me? Shit, Charlotte."

Charlotte glares at me. "See? This is why I didn't tell you! I haven't even graduated college, Lizzie. I barely landed a job as a receptionist. Bill works for his godmother's company in Georgia. If this works out, he'll support me just fine."

I know my eyes are bulging out of my head, by how Charlotte points her finger at me. "Yes, we've considered marriage. Don't try to convince me otherwise. I am happy with Bill." She stomps into her bedroom and I follow her quickly.

"Three months! How did you decide all this? And without telling me? I'm supposed to be your best friend. And you're twenty five not fifty! Why can't you slooooow down? And Georgia? Charlotte? You'd leave for him?" I must look mad as I'm gesticulating wildly.

Charlotte sighs and lowers her shoulders in defeat. "Not everyone is as intelligent and capable as you. I am happy."

I take a step back, swallow my bitter and resentful words, and look away. It's no use to convince her otherwise. I purse my lips. "I'm picking my own maid of honor dress."

Charlotte glances at me, rolls her eyes, and allows the smile to take shape. "Deal."


	9. Monsoon Winds Part 1

The month of May slipped into June quickly, meaning grading papers escalated and I was in a frenzy to complete everything by the second week of May. As classes had ended, I took a week to purge myself from anything related to the evils of college life. Which meant, I was a barely functioning citizen and had resorted to sleeping by the ocean and binge-watching Netflix. During that time, I had also spent my days watching my beautiful twin fall in love with Charlie.

Granted Jane had never told me as much, but the beginning stages of their relationship really made my heart swell. It revitalized me after the hard hits of grading poorly written papers. The flushing cheeks, batting eyes and those particularly sweet comments to each other were too damn cute. Charlie was adorable with his nervous fidgeting behavior and Jane was even more lovely to look at with her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.

An additional part of their blossoming love meant that they loved being alone more and more. That resulted in me no longer being a Darcy decoy. Ironically enough, I had begun to see him everywhere. Literally everywhere. Especially after she met Georgie and I had to convince her that there was no bloodbath in our foyer. I had reassured her Darcy had survived.

"_Jane, no blood was shed, no suit was mutilated, no coiffed hair was ruined."_

"_It best stay that way," Jane warned. "We can't afford our rent to go up because of bloodstains."_

"_Yes'm." _

After about a week of Georgie hanging around, when I complained to Jane about Darcy, she gave me the same spiel Charlotte had provided.

"_Be nice, Lizzie, he really is a great guy. Have you seen him with Georgie? You've misjudged him."_

"_No."_

"_But Lizzie -"_

"_No."_

"_Fine, be an ass." _I love when Jane curses at me.

Also when I said I now see Darcy everywhere, I mean it. I could literally make a list of the times and places I have bumped into him. And oh yes, I have literally bumped into him. At least five times. It's been awkward and I try not to just punch his lights out, but yeah, it's happened. Far too many times for my taste actually…Except there was one time where I definitely fell face-forward after we collided and he helped me up. I felt a six pack, very chiseled arm muscles, and strong hands on my way down.

Much to my embarrassment, I couldn't even verbally abuse him after that encounter. Especially since I had just come back from the pool and was only wearing a bathing suit.

"Are you ok?" Darcy questioned.

Pause. I tried to keep my eyes on the ground as he was wearing shorts and a tee shirt, and I barely recognized him with his dark hair mussed.

"Lizzie?"

I basically grunted a thank you to him and ducked inside my apartment. I truly believe he is tracking me.

Near the end of June, after I had started teaching summer classes two days a week, Jane woke me up one Saturday morning, tiptoeing towards my bed and shaking me.

"Lizzie, I'm heading out."

"Mmmmm." I roll over, waving my hand and trying to bury my face into my pillow.

"Can you pick me up this afternoon?"

"Mmmmmm."

Jane kisses my forehead. "Address is on the fridge." I hear her walk out, closing my door gently.

I check my clock, see 5am, and groan, snuggling lower into my blankets. When my alarm goes off three hours later, I hear rain pounding outside my window. A flash of lightning illuminates my bedroom and I peek out to see palm trees blowing sideways.

"Great." I amble down the stairs and towards the kitchen to start my coffee, catching sight of Jane's note on the fridge.

_My car's in the shop til Monday evening - I know you don't want to run out to Wrightsville Beach today, but I didn't want to impose on Charlie by making him take me home. I'll see you later! XO -Jane _

_P.S. Dinner is on me - wherever you want. And we can pick up macarons from the bakery. _

Such a suck up.

* * *

Spending the next few hours doing dissertation research, I do not bother glancing at my phone. I'm on a mission to work on a chapter, and I refuse to let social media distract me. Around noon, I head upstairs to get ready and check my messages only to see half a dozen texts sent two hours ago and a phone call three hours ago.

Skimming the messages quickly, I gasp when I read that Jane dislocated her shoulder trying to surf. I hit 'Call,' waiting for my sister to answer.

"Hello?"

"Jane! Where are you? Are you at the hospital? Did they take you by ambulance? Are you ok? Are you in pain?" I catch my breath.

"Didn't you get my messages?"

"You said -"

"I'm fine. A lifeguard popped it back in place. I'm at Charlie's. He's making lunch, I'm laying down right now."

"You're ok?"

"Overall. I'm in some pain…" She hesitates. I know she's probably doing terrible, but is trying to keep me from being overly worried. And she doesn't want to put Charlie out, I'm sure.

"I'll be there in ten."

I hang up without another word, slipping on some halfway decent clothes, and dart out the door trying to dodge raindrops. Driving about ten miles over the speed limit, I stealthily glide through every yellow light standing in my way on the slick roadways. Outside the entrance to Wrightsville Beach I see heavy traffic and police officers directing drivers to turn around. A policeman stops at my window, explaining the drawbridge has gotten stuck and cars are unable to cross it.

"I have to get to my sister! Is there another way in?" I probably look and sound like a lunatic, but I'm worried about Jane.

The policeman looks at me seriously. "Is it an emergency?"

I gape. Technically she said she's fine, so I can't cause a scene here as much as I want to get Jane rescued. "Not completely. She dislocated her shoulder this morning, but she said she was better."

I massage my temples, as he gives me a sympathetic look. "If she truly needs to go into the ER, give us a call."

I nod and he explains there's a footbridge, but I'd have to walk a good distance. I sigh, pulling my car off the side of the road and parking in a lot near the sidewalk.

I dig around for my umbrella and make an annoyed growling sound when I can't locate it. "Why do I do this to myself?"

I glare out the window, cursing Jane silently (but with love), and extricate myself from the car. At first I try to run, crossing the street and going down a set of stairs leading to the footbridge. A gust of wind hits me and I slow, feeling knocked sideways. I catch myself on the railing of the footbridge, pausing to let a jogger get beside me. I'm already completely drenched and have sand stuck to my bare legs.

By the time I reach Charlie's front door, I'm positive I look like death warmed over. My hair is plastered to my scalp, curls forming around my face, and my clothes are suctioned to my body. I feel absolutely disgusting as I ring the doorbell.

The door opens and a tall, thin redhead is standing on the other side. Her face is pinched, dramatic and arrogant, and she's wearing a short dress with stiletto heels. Pursing her lips, she looks me over, giving me a disapproving snub.

"May I help you?" She finally speaks, still staring at me with disgust.

I ring my hair. "I'm Lizzie, I'm picking up Jane."

"Who's Jane?"

My mouth drops open. _If I have the wrong address…_

"Jane. Blonde hair, blue eyed beauty. You can't miss her." I stare at the woman, trying not to be rude incase I am at the wrong house.

"Caroline, let her in, she's soaked." A familiar voice rings out and I see Darcy come up behind her, opening the door wider and gesturing for me to come in. I follow his lead and enter a large foyer, seeing a dimly lit den that looks extremely cozy at present off to my right.

The woman's eyebrows pucker together and she gives Darcy a short look. "Her eyes aren't that nice, Will dear."

I look at Caroline curiously as she struts from the room, pausing to whisper to Darcy. "Do you see her clothes? She's filthy, covered in sand and mud. Don't let her sit on the furniture."

I snort, hearing her comments and she huffs, walking away quickly, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

"You want to dry off?" Darcy offers.

My eyebrow crinkles. Deep breath, Lizzie. Be polite.

"Yeah, if you have a towel. Probably something that no one will be offended by if I use."

He opens his mouth to say something, looking at me, his face clouded, then says, "I'll be right back."

I blink, watching him leave the room. I'm confused by that brief exchange, but shake my head, trying to ignore it. I'm here for Jane, not to kill anyone. Truly, I have been trying to be less rude to Darcy - not just because I touched his abs either and feel it would only be polite that I am civil.

Darcy rounds the corner, carrying a towel and a pile of clothes. "If you want to change, you can. They're clean. Charlie let me use his washer and dryer while I waited for my new ones to be delivered last week." He looks awkwardly at the floor, before looking back at me with his blue eyes. He looks a little frightened. Maybe I have permanently scarred this man.

"Yeah, I might change in a few. Thanks." I slide one shoe off. "Who's the bitch, by the way?"

I _think_ I see a small smirk appear, but I'm not too sure. "Charlie's sister, Caroline."

My eyes widen at him. "Wow." I attempt to slip my other shoe off and nearly topple over. Darcy catches my arm and steadies me. My eyebrows crinkle a little bit, as we both step back from each other quickly. I'd like to dismiss it as his weekly charitable act, but since it seems to be a regular occurrence lately, I disregard it completely. I take the towel to my hair and pat my clothes dry. I hand him the towel and take the clothes from him as he stands there wordlessly.

"I'm guessing you and Caroline are parallels here. You're both the terrible sibling that makes the other suffer. Am I right? Is there a club membership?" I place my shoes out of the way on the shelf in the corner, and walk back towards Darcy.

He looks me over, his blue eyes settling on me intently. "Why? You want to join? Jane might defend you, but how do your other sisters feel? I think I've dealt with you enough to know how you act in certain situations." While his tone seems a bit playful, I _know_ he has to be intentionally being an ass to me.

My mouth drops open, my fists clenching. I shake my head, waving my hand at him. "Where's Jane?" I ask brusquely.

"Follow me." He turns left down a long hallway leading to a set of spiral stairs that seem secluded. Darcy's behavior has thrown me off balance yet again. I've spent months plotting ways to kill him and I don't know how to handle him like this. He's gone back to monotonous and silent, his features brooding yet again. I'm positive those are permanently etched into his face. He will probably be susceptible to premature wrinkling and balding.

"Oh joy, I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Will Darcy." I look him over from behind. He's wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of gym shorts.

"You know your suit is missing?" I was _not_ checking him out.

"It is Saturday," he counters with, lengthening his stride as he reaches the landing. An expansive kitchen unfolds, the ocean directly in front of me as I am looking down the hall into a large living room with at least ten large windows.

Charlie is cleaning off granite countertops and waves to me. "I'm so sorry about Jane." He takes a second glance at me. "Did you get caught in the rain?"

"Yeah, the drawbridge is up and got stuck, so I had to take the footbridge over. I wanted to make sure Jane was ok." I tilt my head. "Jane is still alive, right?"

"Oh yeah!" Charlie nods vigorously, probably mildly afraid I'd castrate him if he hurt my sister. "The bathroom is right down the hall," he adds, eyeing the clothes in my hand. "Why don't you go change?"

I bite my lip, looking at Darcy's clothes in my hand. "Uh sure."

I head down the hall, lock the bathroom door behind, and slip out of my sticky shirt and shorts. Pulling Darcy's tshirt over my head, I catch a whiff of his cologne, reminding me of the day he caught me outside of my apartment. _Lizzie, stop this._

Quickly, wanting to evade any other thoughts, I pull a pair of his gym shorts over my hips, tying them tight. Jamming my wet clothes in my bag, I exit the bathroom, and Charlie leads me to a game room across from the kitchen. Jane is curled up on a sofa, watching a movie on the huge television mounted on the wall. I sit beside her, as she gives me a sheepish grin.

"So, you went surfing?" Charlie plops down in a recliner as Will rigidly sits to my left on the couch, moving a throw pillow out of the way in the process.

Jane's left shoulder is in a sling and she laughs gently. "Tried to surf. Tried is the key word here."

"Darcy tried to tell me the waves were too rough today because of the storm moving in, but I really thought she'd be ok," Charlie explains. "She got up on the board several times actually."

"And when I told him the waves were getting worse, he agreed. Jane was a little ambitious," Darcy interjects.

"I finally was staying on the board for more than three seconds, I was determined," she says with a laugh at Darcy. "He's actually amazing at surfing, Lizzie."

I peer at Darcy and he shrugs. "I was a beach kid."

I turn back to Jane. "So, how did the shoulder happen?"

"A giant wave hit her," Charlie offers up. "Knocked her off the board. She was under for awhile. I felt so bad. I'm really not sure of the rest. It happened pretty fast…" Charlie gives me a sheepish grin, shrugging.

"You did attempt to rescue my sister, correct?" I ask authoritatively, protective of Jane.

"Of course!" Charlie urges, lifting his hands and nodding violently.

OK, maybe I do come on a little strong.

Jane reaches over and squeezes his hand. "I'm used to swimming in rip tides when I was a lifeguard, but I couldn't swim well because I think my arm got wrapped around the board weird when I fell off." Jane brushes some hair off her face, nodding her head at Darcy. "Darcy knew it was out of socket and took me to the lifeguard station. I just thought I pulled a muscle - you'd think I would've known."

I pat her leg. "It's fine. You're ok, though?"

She smiles her gorgeous smile. "Of course. I'll be good as new."

"I am sorry," Charlie defends. Whether he is apologizing to Jane or me, I'm not sure, but I watch them smile at each other secretly. Love makes the world go round.


	10. Monsoon Winds Part 2

After much persuasion, it is decided that Jane and I should just spend the night at Charlie's. I fought it pretty hard, but after seeing Jane wince every time she moved, clearly sore all over, I couldn't make my sister walk back to our car. I wasn't the only one not interested in being stuck all night as when Caroline emerged from hiding, an older redhead in tow, she is all pursed lips and furrowed brow.

"Maybe the bridge will be fixed soon so you two can leave for the night," she attempts to muster kindly, but it ends up sounding extremely agitated.

"Don't worry, the second the bridge is down, I will make sure we are no longer inconveniencing you. I didn't ask to put anyone out this evening." Jane gives me a warning nudge and I sigh.

It's not as if I chose to be stuck here. I would like to be curled in my bed this evening, not stranded across town.

"Lizzie, neither of you are inconveniencing us in the slightest." Charlie turns to Caroline and the other redhead. "Lizzie, this is my oldest sister, Louisa. Caroline and Louisa are in from London."

Louisa was a slightly plump redhead with her hair tucked in a chignon at the nape of her neck. While she seemed to dress fashionably, she seemed much more laidback than Caroline. She reaches around Caroline, allowing me to shake her hand.

"Pleasure," she says, looking me over and then peering out of the corner of her eye at her sister.

"Nice to meet you," I affirm, shaking her hand politely.

"We really should get them on their way. I'm sure Jane wants to be able to sleep in her own bed this evening." Caroline smiles at Jane, who I'm sure believes it's sincere, even though Caroline looks like she's grimacing.

"We have six bedrooms, Caroline. All of which are extremely comfortable and well-furnished thanks to Mom. If you can't be polite, why don't _you_ walk?" Charlie suggests.

"Louisa, let's go back to the den," Caroline urges, seemingly uncomfortable. "I'm not thrilled that I'm stranded her on a Saturday night when we could be downtown."

I snort as they exit, Caroline's voice carrying down the hallway. "Charlie, where did you come from? You're _nice_."

He laughs as Jane's eyes widen at me. They've rearranged themselves so that Jane is propped up on Charlie's side, his arm around her. While I know Jane really likes Charlie, I also know she isn't keen on public displays of affection. I figure the pain killers have clouded her judgement at this point.

Darcy left the room a bit ago, so I ask Charlie why Darcy's still sticking around. Charlie's face clouds over briefly, but then he shrugs, grinning. "Can't ever get rid of him. He's pretty clingy. Always wanting to be around me. Have you ever felt that someone is intentionally following you because they just want to be with you?"

His words seem a bit loaded even though he says it playfully. Jane shakes her head, giggling.

"What kind of shit are you saying about me now?" Darcy questions, popping back in the room with his phone in his hand. It buzzes and he looks down briefly.

"Just how you're so clingy." Charlie says reaching for the remote, selecting another movie to watch.

"You've been awfully keen to throw me under the bus lately," Darcy remarks and I glance at him.

"Oh no. Have I lured your best friend to the dark side?" I ask, my curiosity very much piqued.

"You may have," he says shortly, his phone buzzing once again.

I study him for a moment, before looking back at the movie playing. _Frozen_. Of course. I _am _with the two most joyful people in the world.

I settle back into the recliner, Charlie and Jane are together on the loveseat, while Darcy sits adjacent to me on the couch. We sit in silence for a good while, Darcy clearly bored with the movie.

"Why are you in here if you don't want to watch this?" Having seen the movie many times with Jane, I'm ready to be entertained.

"I could ask you the same," he responds, peering up from his phone.

"True." I sigh. "What are you doing?"

Clearly I'm bored since I'm trying to make conversation with the man I hate so much. "Talking to Georgie. She was planning to head out here tonight but with the bridge not operating..." He drifts off, insinuating that she wasn't going to make it. "I didn't want her to walk that far alone at night."

I have an immediate connection with this statement, nearly surprising myself that I empathized with his intentions. "I understand. Probably not the best of ideas for her to be alone on that stretch of the road."

Jane peeks at me, eyes wide. I make a shrugging motion with my mouth at her. She smiles at me before turning back to the screen.

"Too bad Georgie couldn't have made it out here tonight," Charlie gushes. "She's missing the excitement."

"What excitement?" Caroline questions, slipping back in the room and sitting down extremely close to Darcy. He immediately scoots closer to the armrest on the loveseat, inching closer to my space. When her hand rests on his knee I nearly lose it, covering my mouth with my hand to keep myself from cackling aloud.

"Eliza, what is it that you do?" Caroline drawls.

I tuck my leg underneath of me, maneuvering to face her. "I'd just finished my shift at the corner when I came here and you told me not to sit on the furniture." Her mouth opens and nothing comes out causing me to scoff. "I'm working on my PhD in English at UNCW."

"English? Isn't that a degree for the potentially unemployable?"

Will examines Lizzie as she responds to Caroline's interrogation. "I suppose that is debatable. It is rather difficult to find a job in the Humanities, but I am determined to get a tenure position at a university." She tucks a frizzy curl behind her ear, her expression fierce. "Thanks for being concerned about my future though." She gives a winning smile, affirming that she won't be dissuaded from whatever shit Caroline is attempting to stir up. Caroline's eyebrows raise and she gives a light laugh.

Will's phone buzzes in his lap and he sees Georgie's name appear. "_How are things…?"_

He taps out a response, unaware that Caroline has trained her attention on him. Things meaning Lizzie, he's sure. One small slip to Charlie, Caroline and Georgie about Lizzie's eyes and suddenly everyone assumes he has his sights set on Ikea trips, engagement rings, and wedding planning. Yeah no. Ok, maybe he wouldn't mind an Ikea trip soon, but still.

"_Women baffle me."_

A speedy response. "_Why's that?"_

"_You all jump from love, to weddings, to babies in five seconds." _

"_OK…."_

"_Chanel No.5 is giving Lizzie the third degree. I blame you." _

Georgie sent back a string of emoijis, and then, "_Be careful."_

"Will, I have never seen someone text that quickly before. The way your fingers move over the keys is so proficient and adept." Caroline drapes herself over Will's arm and he tucks his phone on the opposite side, trying to disentangle himself.

Will casts a side glance at Caroline, catching Lizzie's bemused expression in the process. "You're wrong actually. I text pretty slow. Georgie usually complains about the speed of my response when she knows I'm trying to answer her."

"Oh, you're texting Georgiana? Do tell her hello for me."

"I told her the other day, I'm sure she can do without your greeting this evening." Will buries his phone in his pocket, moving farther away from Caroline. In doing this he catches a whiff of Lizzie - something beachy smelling - coconut, he believes.

**Sorry for the hiatus! This is as far as I've gotten! **


	11. Fiery Green Eyes

**I'm back. It's been too long.**

When Will was younger, his mother always wanted her home to look like her childhood home located in the historic district of Savannah, Georgia. Rowena Darcy had been bred into the life of a Southern Belle, loving the Spanish Moss and palm trees that lined her winding driveway. When she moved with her husband after college to Wilmington, though loving the ocean, she deeply missed the cobblestone streets of Savannah, the city squares that she knew by heart, pointing her in the direction of home. Her husband, knowing she loved her historic home, began renovating their beach home to resemble the lovely homes of Savannah. Will's parents had been in the process of renovating their home when they passed.

After graduating and settling into his role at Netherfield Graphics, Will had been content to leave the home partially finished. It was mainly because that was one more task he would have to take on if he brought in a construction team. His mother had all of her designs in a thick binder, detailing how each room should look down to the doorknobs. With Georgie living on her own and Will living in the giant beach home with only Ruth as his companion, he finally gathered the courage to start the process in hopes of completing his mother's project. Even with his parents gone, this was something to honor them by. His father had wanted to give his wife a home that displayed her heritage, and Will was commemorating both of his parents' lives in this way.

Will was aware people thought he was ridiculous for taking on such a feat, but he was rarely bothered by people's opinions. It was something he felt he had to do. As the renovations of the inside of the house took place, Will sent Ruth to visit her family in Louisiana. She bucked for two days, refusing to leave him.

"Will, I know this is important to you. If I leave, who will do the laundry? Feed you?" Ruth placed her hands on her large hips, glaring at him. "I'm not going."

He stood his ground. "You are leaving. I bought you a plane ticket." Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he smiled down at her. "You deserve this. A break. You've done so much for Georgie and I. Go see _your_ family."

She grumbled, pushing him away. "I've lived with y'all since you were in diapers. You are my family."

Will chuckled. "Ruth, you are my family too. But go. Take a break. I can do my own laundry. I can feed myself."

That last part was a lie. He probably didn't even know how to operate a stove if he cared to admit it. He'd be eating lots of take out over the next month.

After much convincing, Will finally got Ruth on a plane. Charlie openly let Will crash at his place while his home was having rooms expanded, walls knocked down, and windows added. The home was in it's finishing touches in May and minor changes and renovations had been taking place since. He had finally been able to return home the first of June. In the process of upgrading his appliances, the basement flooded in a result of shoddy plumbing.

And that is how Will Darcy was stuck back at Charlie's - this time in a much more convoluted, aggravating manner as the house seemed to be teeming with life in an odd way. And yet, he was falling for Elizabeth Bennet very quickly in the process. Of course the flooded basement had to occur when Caroline and Louisa were in town, forcing him to be stuck with Charlie's dreaded sisters.

Although he had spent his childhood with these girls, after their parents sent them abroad at fourteen, they had been nothing but trouble. When Caroline had heard Charlie was in a "serious" relationship, she was eager to meet his girlfriend. Louisa, leaving her husband and three year old, accompanied Caroline for their trip to North Carolina.

Will, being the best friend, got probed for information almost the second she walked in the door. He had just returned from his jog on the shore when she cornered him at the glass door off the kitchen.

"What's her deal?" Caroline's arms were crossed, staring at him with an annoyed look.

"What?" Will tried not to roll his eyes, desperately wanting a drink and a shower.

"_The_ girlfriend." Caroline relaxed a bit, coming closer to him, pushing a piece of sweaty hair off his forehead. She made a face when she realized his forehead was drenched, quickly pulling her hand back.

Will walked past her, darting for the sink. He solely tolerated Caroline for Charlie's sake, but he couldn't stand her near him. If he wanted to be honest.

"Her name is Jane," Will said after he took a long drink, trying to avoid this conversation. "She's a marine biologist - petite blonde, blue eyes. She's extremely friendly. Charlie and I met her and her sister at a play. She's nothing like her sister."

Will immediately chastised himself for mentioning Lizzie. Of course Jane was nothing like Lizzie, as Lizzie was brazen and straightforward. That was glaringly palpable.

Caroline gave me a look. "What about her sister?"

Open mouth, insert foot. Will truly had no communication skills.

"Who's sister?" A chipper voice rang out. Will turned to see Charlie padding in the kitchen, carrying a coffee mug over to the dishwasher.

"Charles, I was asking about your new girlfriend," Caroline clarified. "Will says she has a sister. I'm curious to know what this sister is like since Jane is nothing like her."

Charlie snorted, turning to look at Will. "How'd you manage to bring that up? Lizzie always on your mind?"

Will wiped some remaining sweat off his forehead, focusing on a section of the ceiling in the distance. "I was saying Jane is nothing like Lizzie. Jane is a lot like you." Will started to suck up to his best friend as a means for Charlie to get him out this mess. "Friendly, charming, fantastic in every way really."

Charlie nodded, playing along. "And you forgot that I'm a great best friend."

Will crossed his arms, trying to determine Charlie's ploy. "Yeah, great best friend."

Caroline strolled around the island, closer to Will. "You're a wonderful best friend to my brother." She touched his arm, giving a smile that was pinched from her botox treatment. Will cringed a bit, stepping to the side.

Charlie leaned against the counter, smiling. "Yes, Caroline, Jane is wonderful. Her sister Lizzie is wonderful too. You should definitely ask Will why he thinks so."

Will guffawed, wiping his hand over his face. "You bastard."

Caroline made a displeased noise. "Will, do you have feelings for this Lizzie?"

Will sighed, letting a sliver of truth slip from his lips. "She has nice eyes."

Beautiful eyes. Emerald eyes that he loved to examine.

"I'm sure you think she has more than just nice eyes." Charlie gave Will a smug smile.

Will recollected her petite form crashing into him with little to no coverage, and then her toppling forward. He really tried to keep his eyes trained on proper places recollecting the fact that he had a sister he would never want to be mistreated.

"Is it 9 already?" Will asked. "I'm getting a shower."

Without another word, Will darted out of the kitchen, flying down the hallway to the guest bedroom he was using, flopping face down on his bed.


	12. A Damn Fine Accomplished Woman

**I KNOW, IT'S BEEN TOO LONG!**

About halfway through the dancing, singing rocks (trolls?) in _Frozen_, the power flickers violently for several seconds and then we are left in darkness. Jane, who has been dead to the world for nearly the entire movie thus far, doesn't budge at all—not even when Caroline fumbles down the hallway, wailing at the atrocity of her present circumstances. Darcy switches the flashlight on his phone on, and shines it around the room, letting the light linger on me a few moments longer than necessary.

"Can I help you?" I inquire, a little abruptly, starting to get cranky from the adventures the day had provided.

He snaps the light off and we are left in darkness again.

"Darcy!" Charlie chides, as things are rustled, before he switches the light on from his phone. "Everyone ok?"

"Are you serious?" Caroline snaps. "We have no electricity, the wind is howling, and we are stuck here with—"

Charlie, sensing a verbal attack against his lover—and me—interrupts. "Caroline, are you mortally wounded? No? Good."

She huffs, and I snort aloud, and I catch Charlie grinning at me as he moves the light towards Darcy and my corner. "Darce, can you help grab some candles and flashlights from the hurricane stash in the attic?"

Charlie gently maneuvers Jane off of him, before standing and moving toward the doorway. "I'm going to go see if I can get the generator running."

Feeling useless and not wanting to be left alone with a bitchy Caroline, I chase after the men intending to save the day. I also don't like playing the female victim. I am an independent, self-sufficient woman. Mainly.

"Hey, what can I do to help?" I ask, moving quickly to keep up with their long legs.

Charlie spins around. "You can help with the generator."

"Cool." I push my sleeves up from Darcy's hoodie, and move the curls out of my eyes and back into the bun I had knotted earlier that evening.

"Allow me," I wave my fingers in front of Charlie, and he laughs, heading down the hallway. I take a step to follow him, and he casually insists that I go with Darcy.

I halt, looking at Darcy sharply, before gaping. "Darcy? Wait. I was going to help _you _with the generator." I point at Charlie and smile a little too excitedly.

Darcy scoffs "The only thing Charlie knows about a generator is that he has it for hurricane season."

I peek back at Darcy, and square my shoulders, resigned to the fact that I am going with him, rather than Charlie. Fun.

Charlie shrugs. "Seemed like the masculine thing to say."

"Insinuating that Darcy is indeed not masculine. I'm all for gender bending and equality, so while I would rather mercilessly tease you, I cannot in this instance." I sigh and wave Charlie off to the attic, following Darcy downstairs.

"Do you know how to turn on the generator?" I ask, very certain he is also clueless about the present endeavor.

At the bottom of the stairs, Darcy flashes the light up at me, and I catch myself on the railing, overwhelmed by the sight of his blue eyes in the dim lighting. I am suddenly hyper aware of Darcy's masculinity, and being extremely disgusted by this fact, I tense up, determined not to allow my hormones to win this matter.

He cocks an eyebrow, and gives me a half grin. "Yes, I know how to work a generator. Haven't you lived here all your life? Suffered a few hurricanes?"

He turns and heads towards a door that opens onto a porch, drenched with rain water and covered with palm leaves. He ducks down to fiddle with the machinery attached to the house.

"Yeah, I've suffered many hurricanes, but I grew up with four sisters; we never had a generator. Right above poverty level and all that crap. Five kids aren't that cheap...especially if you don't have a trust fund." Kneeling to watch him complete a task I'm ashamed I don't know how to do completely on my own, I give him a look of defiance.

Darcy flips the fuel valve on, and then lifts his eyes to mine. "Oh…"

Great, back to mono-syllables. I sit back on my haunches and shrug. "One of those things. Not all of us can own beach front property at Wrightsville. What are you going to do when the island erodes away and your house goes out to sea?"

He snorts, and then glances up at me, still fiddling with the generator. "Build a new island."

I roll my eyes, irritated. "Of course you will."

Darcy clears his throat, briefly pausing to look at me head on. His lips curve up slightly, and he says, "That was a smart ass response. I know you're used to me only being a prick."

I pause for a moment, feeling slightly off kilter. Darcy made a semi-joke. Damn.

"But you are."

He leans in a little closer, squinting at me, saying nothing. Suddenly, the generator makes a weird whining noise, then chokes and sputters before shutting off with a bang. Darcy stands, brushing his hands on his shorts.

"Shit." Darcy stares down at the generator, dumbfounded. I stand, brushing at my legs, and look between Darcy and the dead piece of machinery. We're doomed, I assume.

"Problem?" Gah, I need to learn how to fix mechanical objects on my own.

Darcy looks to me blankly, almost as if he forgot I was standing next to him. "Well, it's definitely out of gas, and it's hard to tell when it was last serviced. Dammit Charlie." He turns to head back inside and motions for me. "C'mon."

"Is this something I should warn Jane about? Does he forget things easily? Super flighty and irresponsible?" I'm joking, but Darcy stiffens, before returning to his awkward self.

"Something like that."

We end up back in the game room, all of us in darkness and hoping the power will soon be restored. Jane is now awake, and the group of us have been sitting semi-awkwardly for about thirty minutes, and it's nearing 10pm. I accepted my fate around 8:30pm, acknowledging the fact that I really wasn't going to make it back to my own bed tonight for a Netflix binge (aka purging my dissertation sorrows). I would've been content to accept my fate if only I hadn't ended up trading bed cuddles for an evening with Douche Canoe and McBitch.

Speaking of, Darcy somehow manages to snag the seat next to me on the couch, and I can feel him attempting to move closer to me. Caroline had secured the seat on Darcy's other side when we returned to the room after the generator fiasco. She literally flew across the room and hunkered her body into cushion, so I cannot completely blame him for wanting to escape her clutches. But still, _personal _boundaries.

"Who wants to play a _game_?" Charlie pipes up suddenly, as we'd all seemed to disappear into ourselves, plotting our escape and survival. He seems to be mildly excited at the prospect of this.

"Are you being serious?" Caroline accosts. "We're in the middle of a hurricane, and you want to play a game? Act like an adult."

"Pretty sure this isn't a hurricane," I state, giving her a blatant look, which she probably can't see since it's getting dark outside and the natural light has fled the room. "Have you ever survived a hurricane? It's pretty terrible, and it's far worse than this little storm. Raise your hand if you have your Hurricane Survivor Badge!" I obnoxiously raise my arm and wave it around.

"I haven't lived on the coast for quite some time," Caroline haughtily drawls. "London is far more exquisite than Wilmington."

I scoff, and even in darkness, I can feel Jane's blue eyes boring into me with a warning look. Leaning back into the cushion with a sigh, I accidentally brush Darcy's leg and I feel him tense beside me.

Gosh_._ Why is he so freaking _jumpy? _

"So, no game?" Charlie finally asks after a few minutes of silence, and Jane and I laugh.

"Guess that's a no," I declare, taking my hair out of its bun and running my fingers through it. It's still slightly damp from the rain earlier, so I braid it quickly, tired of the weight of my tresses on top of my head.

I catch Darcy watching me, and I glare back. He finally says, "Seems to be that way."

For a moment, I'm silent, wondering what he's referring to, and then I remember my comment to Charlie's game question.

"Bit delayed, don't ya think?"

He doesn't respond, but continues to stare before turning away hesitantly.

The more time I spend with Darcy, the more I realize how extremely socially awkward he is. It's not enough that he's a rich jerk with the humility of Donald Trump. I almost feel bad for him at times, but the moment he opens his mouth with a comment demonstrating his arrogance and conceit—yeah no, I'm over sympathizing with him.

"Will, is Georgiana doing all right this evening after everything this terrible storm has caused?" Caroline inquires, with fake concern. She must've crawled on Darcy's lap too, because he readjusts himself on his cushion, moving closer onto my side of the couch.

I gently shove his shoulder, indicating that he's invaded my bubble, and the lack of lighting might have played a trick on my eyes, but I swear he tossed me a pleading look before answering her.

"She's doing fine, Caroline. She made it home before her road flooded."

"Oh, Lizzie, we forgot about flooding!" Jane exclaims.

The worst part about living in Wilmington (aside from tourists, hurricanes, the large squirrel population, the Marines that invade downtown regularly to pick up unsuspecting women—I'll stop myself here) is the flooding. I absolutely love being a born and bred beach girl, but I do not love living next to so many bodies of water that instantly pour onto streets and into homes the minute a decent amount of rain falls—which is regularly, and usually when you don't expect it.

"Eh...we should be good in the morning...assuming the drawbridge is functioning again."

Here's to hoping.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll be quite fine," Caroline supplies, clearly worried about Jane and my safety. "Will, how is Georgie doing now that she's on her own?"

"She's great," Darcy says simply.

"Yes, she's _quite_ fine," I retort, and I hear Jane sigh at my comment. Charlie chuckles softly and I hear him whisper something to Jane. They laugh together, and my heart melts a little inside. Gah, they're too much.

Caroline ignores the commotion around her and continues her conversation with Darcy as if the rest of us are no longer in existence. "I know she has always been very artistic, but I am sure that is a consequence of the opportunities your parents and you provided her with. She's clearly extremely accomplished at such a young age."

"Yes, such accomplishments," Charlie interjects. "What does that even mean? Especially now. Are we talking _Mad Men_ women or _Girl Boss_ women? Is there a spectrum? Should we vote on this?"

I catch the satire in his tone, and I smile inwardly. I like this guy.

Caroline laughs bitterly. "Charles, please don't be so asinine. Not all women can truly be so accomplished, but Betty Draper is clearly the epitome of what an accomplished women should be."

"Oh yes, clearly. Love the clever pop culture reference. Spot on, bro. Want to lead a discussion in one of my English classes? I'll give you a gold star. Also, I love that you've watched _Girl Boss. _I'd give you a gold star just for that."

"Aw, thanks, Lizzie, I feel so special," Charlie replies good-heartedly, and then I continue my rant, super pissed at Caroline's uneducated assumptions and opinions. I must enlighten her.

"Back to Caroline's conceptualization of an accomplished women. Look at Ivanka Trump's marketplace feminism: 'You can have it all' mentality. Yeah, you can have it all, but it comes with a price. No one wants to acknowledge that fact. So, we can't create paradigms for the "accomplished" woman, and then dilute every single woman's experiences that contradict what "accomplishment" means."

I pause to take a breath and Darcy cuts in. "But, why can't you have it all as a woman? Being accomplished means that you can have motherhood, a career, success, experience. I know several women that are capable of balancing this perfectly." Darcy turns toward me, and is serious AF about this.

"First off, I'm saying that we shouldn't reduce the idea of accomplished to a single definition. Also, I'm not saying a woman can't have all of that, but it's the execution that is problematic. You, as a man, can say all of those wonderful things, but have you ever been a woman? Do you know what it takes for a woman to reach certain goals, especially if she's in an environment that is misogynistic and discriminatory? Also, if you're using Betty Draper as the ideal woman, I'm pretty sure your logic is completely flawed (in my personal opinion), because she was definitely oppressed by Don and the rest of the patriarchy. Just saying."

The room is silent, and I can tell Caroline is seething from her side of the couch. I do fight for all women and their ambition, but I straight up don't like Caroline. Sorry.

Darcy pushes forward. "No, I cannot say that I fully understand where you are coming from, but I think that women have opportunities and access to 'having it all,' as you so sarcastically put it. And, shouldn't you as a woman, support all women and what they strive for?"

"Oh Lord," Jane mumbles from across the room, and Charlie chuckles.

"I do support women and their ambition; however, I don't support generalizing what it means to be accomplished. That's what's wrong with the patriarchy—you don't know what it means to be a woman, so don't make rules for what she should be!" For the entirety of this conversation, Darcy and I have been slowly turning into each other, and I lean back, realizing how close we've gotten.

Darcy blinks. "How have we even gotten on this topic?"

"You'd better stop while you're ahead. Lizzie is merciless, and she can talk feminism all day. No joke," Jane warns.

The lights flicker, and the electric finally returns. Darcy is still watching me, his brow creased.

"Are you emotionally scarred?" I ask, irritated by his accusations and assumptions.

"Of course not." He turns away from me, and glances briefly at Charlie. They exchange a look.

"It's perfectly fine if you want to admit that you're wrong, Darcy. Unless, you're too prideful that is." I turn myself on my cushion so that my back is propped against the armrest. "Too prideful to admit your flaws, and you have many. Do you want a list of them? I'm a killer listmaker."

He turns to face me, and his face softens. Briefly, I am overwhelmed by Will Darcy. His blue eyes are sincere; he has stubble across his jawline, and his dark hair is falling across his forehead boyishly.

"I can be prideful, I'm not denying that." He seems vulnerable, and I am speechless (for once). "And I know I have many flaws—I can admit that. I can give you a list if you want it. My biggest flaw is that I don't forgive people. At all. It's difficult for me."

He's looking at me very intently, and I finally find my voice.

"That's not too hard to believe," I sputter, still reeling inside about what was happening in this moment.

For the first time since meeting Will Darcy, he smiles. A genuine smile that leaves me kind of breathless—out of shock that he can actually smile. "And yours, Lizzie Bennett, is to hate everyone out of stubbornness, refusing to ever change your _well-informed _opinion."

I can't muster a response to that. Point for Darcy. Damn.


End file.
